


Between a rock and a hard place

by asamandra



Category: Hawkeye (Comics), Marvel, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: 2 prompts, Blackmail, Drugs, Kidnapping, M/M, Non-Graphic Rape/Non-Con, POV Bucky Barnes, Prompt Fill, Sexual Slavery, Torture, avengerkink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-23
Updated: 2015-03-26
Packaged: 2018-03-08 18:49:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 5
Words: 23,710
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3219584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/asamandra/pseuds/asamandra
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>To save Steve's life Bucky has to kidnap his new more-than-a-friend Clint and give him to his former owner.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Prompts:  
> [Bucky/Clint Someone threatens Steve to force Bucky to kidnap his new more-than-a friend Clint](http://avengerkink.livejournal.com/19994.html?thread=47374874#t47374874)  
> [Any/Clint, Clint/OMC, Clint's former owner wants his boy back [slavery/rape/underage]](http://avengerkink.livejournal.com/19994.html?thread=48307738#t48307738)

Finally I open the door to his apartment. I don't need to ring at his door. Not anymore. He gave me a key three months ago. He had grinned broadly when he gave me the small package, clumsily wrapped in purple wrapping paper with arrows on it. I had looked at it, my brows furrowed and he had gestured at it with his chin and said that I should open it. I did and when I saw what was in it, I could only stare at it for a few seconds, unable to process what just had happened. This apartment was his safe haven. That he had given me – me!! - a key to it... I've never expected something like this to ever happen. I wrapped my arms around him and hugged him, kissed him and he smiled happily at me. 'This is now your safe haven, too, James,' he had said and kissed me again. 

I close my eyes and enter the living room. He's not here and so I go to the kitchen, open the fridge and take a can of soda – my favorite – out of it and open it while I walk back into the living room. I go to the sofa and sit down. It doesn't take long and Lucky, his dog, comes to me and puts his snout onto my knee. He looks at me with his one eye. I grit my teeth an put my hand on his head, pet his fur and he opens his mouth and starts to pant happily, his eyes closed and he looks as if he smiles. I feel bad, really bad, and I have to swallow hard. When the dog puts his paw onto my knee as well I lean forward and place my forehead on his. His body is warm and soft and I can barely breath but that's not the dog's fault. 

“Oh, Lucky,” I sigh and have to swallow again, can barely hold the tears back. 

I look around the apartment and remember the first time I met him. Steve introduced us...

 

***

 

_Bucky stayed in the back, his arms crossed over his chest, and glared at Steve when this guy came into one of the living rooms of Stark Tower's communal floor. He looked over his shoulder at Bucky, nodded in his direction and then he flopped down on one of the couches._

_Bucky leaned himself against the wall and watched the two. He knew that they would talk about him but he didn't care. Not really. Steve had told him about this man, the archer, Hawkeye, Barton. He thought, this man could probably help him where Steve couldn't._

_Inwardly Bucky snorted. First of all, he didn't need help, he was fine, thank you very much, and then, how should_ this _guy be able to help him? He didn't look like one of the shrinks Steve had dragged him to after SHIELD had deprogrammed him. He looked more like a mercenary of some sort. Steve had told him he's an agent of SHIELD and an Avenger and had mumbled something about_ coping with the aftermath of mind control _._

 _He watched them talking. 'Why do you ask_ me _?' Hawkeye asked and pointed at his chest and Steve, who sat with his back to Bucky, answered. He couldn't hear them, they were too far away and talked to quietly but he could read the archer's lips._

_Bucky looked away, stared out of one of the windows but when he sensed a motion, he turned his head back. They came over and Steve seemed pleased with himself. The other man was more nervous._

_“Bucky, this is Clint Barton, Hawkeye,” he introduced him and then he turned to the smaller blonde. “Clint, James Buchanan Barnes.”_

_Barton held his hand out and after staring at it for a very long moment he reached out and shook it._

_“Pleasure to meet you, James,” he said. Bucky nodded, once, but didn't answer. No one called him James. Bucky. Winter Soldier. Barnes. Never James. He scrutinized the smaller man._

_Blond. He liked blondes. He had strange eyes, somehow tri-colored. Something he had never seen before as far as he could remember, which wasn't too much if he was honest to himself. But it suited him. Beautiful eyes. And then he started to smile and his whole appearance changed. The_ serial killer _expression vanished and his face lit up. His mouth was a little unsymmetrical and he had small laugh lines around his eyes. But he liked that. He hated perfection in a person and this guy, Barton, was anything but perfect._

_Steve patted his shoulder and smiled. “I'll go no. I guess you...” he said but then Barton waved his hand and Steve raised his brow._

_“We're good, Cap,” he said and when Steve opened his mouth to complain he repeated it, “We're good,” this time with a little hint of impatience in his voice. Steve finally nodded and patted Barton's shoulder._

_He stayed quiet till Steve left the living room before he turned back to him, Bucky._

_“So...” Barton started when he heard the elevator doors, “apparently our good, old Cap thinks we could be mind-control-buddies.” He scratched the back of his head and then shrugged. Bucky stayed quiet, just cocked his head._

_“Uhm... okay,” Barton gestured at the elevator. “I'm not sure how... uhm... if you want to... I don't know... talk, maybe... uhm... let me know, okay?” Bucky still stared at him. He was nervous but he had the feeling that it wasn't because of his Winter Soldier glare. No, that was something else. He just had no idea what it could be. Barton nodded slowly, his lips pressed together and pursed in a strange way. “Okay. Uhm... I think I should go. You know... uhm... where to find me? In case... you know... you wanna talk?”_

_Bucky just turned around and left the living room, went to the stairs and opened the door._

_“Okay,” he heard Barton. “nice talking.” He ignored him and closed the door behind himself. ___

__

***

__

I can't hold back the tiny smirk. That was more than a year ago and so much has happened since then. But the smirk disappears after only half a second and I stare at my fingers. I know what I have to do and I hate it. I hate it so much but it's the only solution. I've thought about all my options – I have none left – and this... this is what I have to do even if I hate it. But it's the only way to save both of them. 

Once again I sigh and Lucky, the sneaky bastard, pushes my arm with his snout to pet him even more. I do it and I almost cry. It doesn't take long and the dog sits in my lap and I let him. 

“Oh, Lucky, what can I do?” I ask him and he licks my face. 

I lean back, away from his tongue and try to remember the first time I saw the dog. 

__

***

__

_Bucky leaned in a dark corner, watched the front door of his house. Yes, the whole building was his. He had watched him the last weeks and had listened to the talks of his tenants._

_Apparently Barton had started a fight with the Russian mob about this building he had heard, the building and a dog. One of the guys living there had told it in a bar. He wasn't sure why he followed him that time but he was curious. Curious about this man Steve thought could help him._

_He looked down when he suddenly felt a presence at his legs. An ugly, half-blind mutt sniffled around his feet and peed at the dumpster beside him. But then he looked up and panted, sat down and stared at him. When he didn't move the dog nudged his knee with his mouth and Bucky glared at him. He tried to shove him away with his foot but the mutt was persistent. He moved a tiny but but then he nudged his leg from the other side. Finally Bucky gave in and, evilly glaring at the dog, he petted his head and he panted even more._

_“Lucky, for fuck's sake!” He heard a voice, a familiar voice, and he moved around and hid behind the dumpster. He didn't want him to see him lurking in dark corners. But the dog followed him and Bucky gave him a shove to get rid of him. The dog looked at him accusingly and inwardly Bucky cursed the creature._

_“Lucky, there you are,” Barton said and then – thankfully – the dog turned, waged his tail._

_Bucky held his breath and didn't move. And Barton did the same. He just stared into the dirty backstreet for a few seconds, the dog sitting at his feet and panting._

_“Okay, let's get home,” he finally said and when the two, Barton and his damn mutt, were away he allowed himself to breathe again. He knew. Barton knew that he was here. Bucky was pretty sure that he knew. They called this guy Hawkeye for a reason._

_'Damn', he cursed again inwardly and waited a few minutes before he left the backstreet and headed back to Steve's place._

__

***

__

I look around the small living room again, at his things and remember a lot of moments with him. The first time I knocked at his door. He just stood in the doorframe, looked at me for a long moment and when I was on the verge of running away he just opened his door a little further and invited me in with a small nod with his head. (“You want a beer?”) 

I see the stuffed tiger on one of the armchairs and I remember our _tournament_ at the fair, where we plundered the shooting stall and gave all the toys to the children watching us. We just kept this tiger and when I asked why he said that he wanted it as a souvenir because I won it. He said it would remind him of this day. (“And by the way, he looks like you. I think I call him Jamie.” - “Jamie? No one called me Jamie and survived.” - “Really, _Jamie_? That's why I call the tiger Jamie and not you.” - “I guess I wouldn't mind if you'd call me Jamie.”) 

I see the stool at his breakfast bar and remember the day I finally broke down, slumped onto the floor where I cried and he just sat beside me, an arm around my shoulder and held me. He didn't talk, just sometimes stroked over my head with his hand. It was embarrassing and I didn't want that to happen. But it happened. And he was there for me. And afterwards he just smiled, rose, and made me a cup of coffee. 

I remember the day he told me about his brother and why he couldn't call me Bucky just like everyone else. 

__

***

__

_Clint sat on his couch, his legs drawn up to his body and he held his usual mug in one hand and a book in the other. When Bucky opened the door he looked up, smiled and put his mug onto the table._

_“Hey, James,” he said and Bucky raised his brow. He kept quiet and went to the armchair, flopped down into it and looked at him. After a second he reached over, took the book and looked at the title._

_“Lord of the rings?” Bucky asked and cocked his head. Clint shrugged._

_“The only book I've read more than once. It's my 16th time.”_

_Bucky snorted but he couldn't hold back a smile. Clint was such a nerd, he just didn't see it himself._

_“Do you read, James?” He asked and Bucky sighed._

_“Why do you do that?” He answered with a question._

_“What do you mean?” Clint furrowed his brows, put his book onto the end table and sat up._

_“Why do you still call me James? Everyone calls me Bucky except of you. So, why do you still call me James?”_

_“I like James,” he said but when he looked away for a second Bucky sensed that there was more behind it. He just held Clint's eyes with his and when the archer looked up he sighed and wiped his face with one hand before he emptied his mug and put it back onto the table. “I've told you about my brother?”_

_“You mentioned him.” Bucky nodded. Clint looked at him and Bucky saw that he deliberated if he should tell him or if he should keep quiet but then he leaned back and closed his eyes._

_“When I was a boy and in the circus, me and my brother were the trainees of worlds best archer. His name was... was B-buck Chisholm. I can't call you Bucky because this always reminds me of him. And I don't want to think of him when I see you,” he said._

_Bucky blushed violently._

_“What happened?” He asked quietly._

_“I've never told anyone what happened. SHIELD knows but in my files is only the children's version,” Clint said and Bucky had to swallow._

_“You don't need to...” he started but Clint shook his head._

_“No. You've told me what happened to you and so it's only fair that you know what happened to me,” he said but then he stopped and licked his lips again. “When I was fifteen my brother Barney and my mentor Buck tried to rob the circus. I tried to stop them but, well, I've been just a tiny runt at this time. They overpowered me and Buck... he wanted to kill me but then they had another idea. They sold me,” he said and his voice sounded strange. Bucky rose and went to sit beside him on the couch. It was instinct but when he put his arm around Clint's shoulder he could feel that it was the right thing to do. “There was this guy, Landon Sussman, Sussman Pharmaceuticals. He was stinking rich. He... he gave them money and they sold me to him.”_

_“Oh god,” Bucky couldn't hold back and Clint licked his lips again and swallowed._

_“He had me for more than two years and... and I've been his... his_ slave _.”_

_“Clint,” he managed but then he had no idea what he could possibly say._

_“I've been his sex-slave and he... he...” Clint tried to tell him but it was too much. He couldn't say it but he didn't need to. Bucky understood the concept of sex slavery. He knew what this man had done to Clint._

_“Shh, you don't have to say it,” Bucky whispered and thankfully Clint nodded._

_“He made a mistake. Sussman. He made a mistake in his tax declaration and got arrested for tax evasion and when the cops came for him they found me and freed me.”_

_Bucky swore to himself that he would find out what happened to Sussman and if he was still alive he would strangle him._

_“I can't use your nickname because it reminds me of him, of my former mentor, of the man that laughed when he gave me to another man to be... you know.”_

_“It's okay.... to call me James,” Bucky said. He had no idea what he could possibly say right now. “But... I've told you that it would be okay if you'd call me Jamie. I wouldn't mind,” he added then. And yes, he would find out what happened to Sussman. And he would kill him._

  
***

With a sigh I lean back and look at the ceiling, still petting the dog, who's grunting happily. I feel so bad. 

I've asked Tony and he had helped me to find Sussman. The bastard was still in jail at this time. But now he's free. I have no idea. Tony had said that he had to stay for at least another ten years but somehow he managed to get out. I have no idea. And honestly, I don't care how he managed to be released. There are two things I know, though. First, for now I do what he wants me to and second, the moment I have saved both, Clint and Steve, I will kill him. Slow and painful. Really, really painful. This asshole deserves nothing else. 

Lucky climbs onto my legs and I let him. I still pet him and remember the day, Sussman told me what he wanted from me... 

  
***

_Bucky entered his favorite coffee shop to get his fix. He was nearly as addicted to coffee as Clint and he smiled when he looked at the list of all the different types of coffee he could get here. Clint was with him the first time and explained everything and he felt old. In his times he went to a café and he got coffee. Simple, plain, black filter coffee and not all those strange flavors. But he discovered that he loved the sweet and_ strange _stuff and Clint had laughed at his expression when he tried a caramel macchiato for the first time. He really loved it._

_He just had gotten his Latte and Clint's espresso when he spotted a face he had seen not long ago and his expression darkened. Landon Sussman stood outside of the coffee shop, leaned against an expensive looking car and apparently waited for someone. Bucky let both his paper cups drop down to the floor, ignored the barista's angry shouting and ran out and only a second later he had Sussman grabbed at his throat and the older man's smug smirk was gone when he tried to suck air into his lungs._

_He tried to say something but Bucky didn't care, he gave him his best Winter Soldier glare and squeezed his trachea but then Sussman formed a name and Bucky stopped for a second._

_“What?” He asked, threateningly._

_“Rogers...” Sussman wheezed. And finally Bucky let go of him and stepped back. It took a moment till the older man could talk again, he still sucked air into his lungs greedily. “Good decision,” he managed eventually._

_“You have one minute, Sussman,” Bucky spat._

_“I've poisoned Rogers,” he said and when Bucky wanted to grab his throat again he stepped back the few inches to his car. “Only I can save him,” he added quickly.”_

_“What do you mean, you've poisoned Steve?” He asked, his eyes squinted and his mouth a thin line._

_“Two days ago,” Sussman said but stopped himself to clear his throat before he could continue but his voice was still rough from Bucky choking him. “When you were in the children's hospital to visit the poor, little_ squirts _. One of them gave him a lollipop, you remember?”_

_“What did you do?” Bucky pressed through his teeth and made another step in Sussman's direction, stood chest to chest and glared at him and this time the guy flinched slightly._

_“The handle was manipulated. As soon as he unwrapped it and put it in his mouth it released an especially for him designed toxic agent,” Sussman grinned now. And Bucky actually remembered Steve getting a sucker from a little girl. He remembered him unwrapping the candy and putting it in his mouth and the little girl smiling broadly when he thanked her. “The poison is in his system and there's no way that your doctors and scientists can find a cure in time.”_

_“What?” Bucky spat and grabbed his throat again. He heard in the background people call the police but he couldn't care less._

_“I suggest you remove your hands and we talk,” Sussman wheezed when Bucky choked him again. He still glared at the older man for a very long moment before he finally released him. Sussman straightened, pulled down his jacket and cocked his head. “Good decision, Mr. Barnes,” he grinned then._

_He turned and opened the backdoor of his car and Bucky could see a driver in the front seat. Sussman climbed onto the backseat, slid over to the other door and looked at him expectantly. When Bucky just stared at him, he patted the seat beside him with a mocking smirk._

_“I've thought you wanted to save your friend,” he grinned. And finally Bucky climbed in as well and closed the door._

_“What do you want?” Bucky snarled as soon as the driver started the engine and merged into the traffic. Sussman pressed a button and a window separated them from the driver before he turned to Bucky._

_“I want you to give my property back,” he said. Bucky's mouth got dry._

_“What?” He asked but he knew what Sussman wanted. He knew it. Clint. This bastard wanted Clint._

_“I know that you have him and I want him back. He's mine!” Sussman's voice became icy._

_“You can't possibly expect me to...” he started but Sussman interrupted him, his hand raised impatiently._

_“I can, Mr. Barnes, and you know that. You can rescue only one of them,” Sussman shrugged. “It's either you give me my boy - then I will give you the antidote - or you keep Clint and then Rogers will die in about four days.”_

_“How do you...”_

_“Please. I know that you and him are more than just friends. Maybe I've lost lots of my money but I have still enough to get all the information I need,” he spat now._

_“You are crazy! I can't just give Clint to a psychopath like you!” Bucky raised his voice but Sussman just snorted._

_“He's my property! I paid for him.”_

_“Are you nuts?” Bucky spat and Sussman just chuckled._

_“Yeah, maybe I am. Luckily just a few months ago there were lots and lots of SHIELD files on the web, with all of Rogers' medical files. And, you know, I'm an excellent pharmaceutical chemist and so I formed a plan. You have three days to give me what's mine or you have to watch your old friend Rogers die. It will start with flu-like symptoms. He will get a fever but after about a day it will get worse. At first it will affect his lungs, then the liver and stomach and when he's coughing blood and writhe in pain while all his organs become liquid you can hold his hand and watch him die in agony. Or you give me my property and I give you the cure and Rogers will survive.”_

_Bucky stared at him incredulously. This man had to be kidding. No one could be so crazy to do something like that._

_“It's your decision, Mr. Barnes.” Sussman knocked at the window and the driver stopped the car as soon as possible. The older man reached into his pocket, took a business card and gave it to Bucky. “You have two days before it's too late for Rogers.” He leaned over Bucky, opened the door and nodded his head. “Call me, Mr. Barnes.”_

  
***

That was yesterday. I hailed a taxi as soon as Sussman's driver drove away. The man looked at me sceptically when I told him that he should bring me to Stark Tower as fast as possible. But when I assured him that I'm with the Avengers – my metal arm was really helpful in this matter – and that we would compensate him if he would lose his job, he agreed. It didn't take long and I gave him twice the fare before I ran into the tower. 

The private elevator brought me up to the communal floor. Thor sat in the living room in front of a chess board but the chair opposite of him was empty. 

“Hey, Thor!” I went over to him. “Do you know where Steve...” I started but the Asgardian smiled and pointed at the corridor that led to the kitchen. “Thanks.” 

I went into the kitchen and found Steve, preparing some tea. Steve never drank tea unless he had the flu. 

“Steve!” I breathed and he turned around, a brow raised. 

“What's wrong?” He asked, the electric kettle in his hand. 

“Are you okay?” I had to ask him and the wrinkle between his brows deepened. 

“Yes. Are _you_ okay?” Steve put the kettle down and came over. 

“Yeah, I... you never drink tea, Steve.” 

“Bucky, what's wrong? You behave in a strange fashion,” he said. 

“Why do you make tea?” I asked him and Steve shook his head, sighed. 

“It's just the flu. Maybe I caught a cold when we visited the children in the hospital. Nothing serious,” he smiled and turned back to pour the water into his mug. But I felt my blood run cold. He really had done it. He had poisoned Steve. 

“Bucky, oh my god, what's wrong? You're pale like a ghost,” Steve came over, put a hand on my arm and looked at me worriedly. 

“It's... I'm fine,” I lied and stepped back. “I... I just thought the serum would prevent you getting sick,” I said and he chuckled. 

“No, but I get better really fast. But...” he said. 

Sussman, that bastard, had poisoned Steve. I couldn't believe it. Steve was going to die. 

“Hey, Bucky? Bucky?” I could hear his voice when I bolted. I couldn't talk to him right now, not when I knew that he would die in just a few days and I could save him. But the price, the price for Steve's life, was... Clint. I needed time, time to think, time to plan... time to call Sussman. 


	2. Chapter 2

And now? Now I sit here in his apartment with his dog and wait for him, ready to do the worst thing you can imagine. I'm going to use his trust in me against him. And I feel like the worst scum. I feel a tear run along my face. I love him. And I know that he loves me, too. But what I'm going to do to him.... it will destroy everything we have. 

But I have to save Steve. I have to. He has saved me, too. He has brought me back and I can't let him die. I know, when I have the cure and Steve's fine he will help me to free Clint. He will probably not forgive me but... I have to stop this train of thought or I'm not able to accomplish my mission. And yes, I have to think about it as a mission. I have to leave Bucky behind, I have to leave Jamie behind, I have to be the Winter Soldier. 

Lucky licks my face when another tear leaves my eye and runs along my cheek. And then I finally hear the sound I dread the most, a key sliding into the keyhole and unlocking the door. 

I take a deep breath, another one and lock Bucky and Jamie away, deep into my subconsciousness, and then I open my eyes. 

I am the Winter Soldier. I am here to accomplish my mission. I shove the dog away, ignore his indignant whining and rise. The man entering the room – this is Clint, asshole, not some nameless mark my subconsciousness tries to yell at me – is my mission. It's my job to take him prisoner. When he looks up from the letters he holds in his hand and sees me, his face lights up, he smiles at me and the dog hurries over to him, wags his tail. 

“Hey, Jamie,” he says cheerful, throws the letters onto a side table and ruffles the dog's fur. It barks happily and puts his front paws onto his chest. The man doesn't show fear. Why doesn't he show fear? He's looking at me and he smiles as if he's glad to see me. 

The man turns his head to pet the animal in front of him.

“It's okay, Lucky, give me a minute and then you'll get your food,” he says. He doesn't look up when I walk over to him. But when I grab him at his throat with my artificial arm, slam him into the door behind him his eyes widen in shock. His hands try to open my grip but it's futile. He's an ordinary human, he has no chance.

“Jamie,” he's pressing through his teeth, his face distorted in pain. “Jamie, please,” he gasps when I let him slump down. He whirls around but before he can throw a punch at me I have him slammed back into the wall again. “Jamie, it's me, Clint,” he said. I ignore his pleas and grab his hand. “You have a flashback, Jamie,” he wheezes and I can see that his resistance falters. He tries to kick at me but I press him into the wall with my whole body weight. 

The dog barks, this time it's not happy, this time it's threateningly. The animal tries to protect it's master. I glare at him and when it growls at me I kick it. It is quiet immediately.

“Lucky!” The man gasps and tries to free himself out of my grip again. He fights with everything he has but it's not enough. That's the price he has to pay for being so inattentive when he faces an enemy. I don't care if the dog is alive or dead, I reach into the pocket of my pants and take the cuffs I've brought. When the man sees them his eyes widen again and he struggles even more. But with my second hand I manage to close one of the cuffs around his wrists easily and when I slam my knee into his stomach he's stunned for a moment. Enough to turn him around, to press my body against his and to tie his second hand to his first. 

“Jamie?” He wheezes and once again I wonder if I should recognize this name. This time he lands a painful kick on my knee when I move back and I groan. It hurts. The man is tied but he doesn't give up. He still fights. Time to change tactics. I reach into my pocket again, take the syringe my principal has given me. With my teeth I remove the cover. 

“No! No, Jamie, come on, remember who you are, Jamie, please,” he pleads again when I finally pierce his skin with the needle and press the plunger. “No, Jamie, please.” 

I hold him in an iron grip and wait for his struggles to die down. It doesn't take too long and I have him in my arm, unconscious. I let him slide onto the floor and take a deep breath. Another one. And another one. And then the fog in my head clears. 

I swallow hard when I look down at Clint, lying on the floor, tied and a pained expression on his face. Scum. I am scum. The worst scum. When I hear a faint whine I turn my head and see Lucky, lying behind me and wheezing painfully. Great, Bucky, I think. Now I can count cruelty to animals to my numerous crimes. I really am the worst scum. 

When I frisk Clint I find his mobile. I write a quick text to Kate that she should look after Lucky before I put the phone onto the side table. And then, with a sigh and another tear running along my face, I grab Clint, throw him over my shoulder and carry him out to the car I've borrowed, to give him to the man he fears the most.

***

The car waiting in front of the house is STARK 27, a black SUV with tinted windows. Stark didn't even ask what I needed the car for, he just gave me the keys. Clint groans when I open the backdoor. The dose wasn't very strong, just enough to subdue him. I lay him on the backseat, carefully to not hurt him, and fold his legs.

I have a rope on the passenger's seat and take it to tie his legs to the handcuffs. He groans again and I caress his cheek for a second before I swallow and break away. I have to do this. Steve's life was at the stake. 

I climb onto the driver's seat and start the engine. Sussman gave me the coordinates where I should meet him and after a deep breath I start the engine and merge into the traffic. 

“Jamie?” I hear his voice after a few minutes quietly. He's awake. I knew this would happen but I didn't want to give him more of the drug. I didn't want him to wake up and be in Sussman's clutches. It would be too cruel. He deserves an explanation. Will it break his heart? I don't know. Probably. But maybe it helps him if he can hate me for what I've done. Maybe it...

“James, what... what...” He tried to sit up. “Why am I tied?” 

“Steve got poisoned by Landon Sussman. He's going to die,” I say without preamble. He's quiet for a few seconds.

“I...” he starts and then, “what? James, what's going on?” He asks and I know that he knows what I'm up to. And I also know that he wants to hear it, wants me to say it. He deserves the truth. At least. 

“Sussman managed to create a... a toxic agent. It's especially designed for Steve and it will kill him really soon.” I look into the rear view mirror and I see his eyes. They are full of emotions. Hate, fear, desperation, anger, disbelief. “I'm sorry, Clint.” 

“So,” he says and licks his lips. “You had to decide, me or Steve, and you've chosen Steve.”

“Clint, no. It's...” 

“Why didn't you ask Bruce for help? Or Tony? Or Hank? We know so many geniuses. I'm pretty sure one of them would've known what to do.” 

“Because he doesn't have that much time left.” I pull over and ignore the honking of the cars behind me. I turn in my seat to look at him. “I had to decide, yes, and believe me, it was the hardest decision I ever had to make. But when I refuse Steve will die. Sussman wants you alive and when Steve is cured I will come and find you. Promise.”

He tries to sit up but the way I've bound him makes it impossible. He huffs in frustration. 

“You know what he's going to do to me, right?” He asks then and I have to look away, close my eyes. I know it and just the idea that Sussman would touch him makes me sick. “But I get it. I understand. Steve is your friend. And I? I'm just the guy you occasionally fuck,” he spits bitterly. I can see that he still tries to get out of his bonds.

“No, that's not true, Clint. And you know it's not true.” 

“Then how can you do this to me? How can _you_ do this?” He asks and I hear his voice waver. He's more than terrified and again I feel like the worst scum on earth. Right now I wish Steve would've let me where I've been, would've let me be who I was, the Winter Soldier, property of HYDRA. 

“Clint, it's...” I finally start but he interrupts me and his next words are like a slap in my face. No, they are worse, they are the truth.

“You don't have to say anything. You've made your decision and I have to live with it. I understand, Bucky.”

***

“You can still change your mind,” Clint said when I open the SUV's backdoor. We're early, Sussman isn't here yet.

“I can't, Clint. Steve's gonna die.” 

“Sussman is a shark. He's lying when he opens his mouth. He's lying when he wishes you a good morning. You can't trust him, James.” I open the ties that hold Clint's legs and the moment his feet are free Clint tries to kick at me. But I'd expected it. I grab his foot and pull and Clint falls onto the ground with a painful groan. I lean down, lift him up and grab his arms. He has no chance, I'm stronger than him, thanks to the serum.

“Please,” Clint whispers. I know that he wouldn't have pleaded with anyone else, that he still tries to _get through to me_. "I understand that Steve's life is at stake but there has... there has to be another option, James, please..." 

“I would take your place right away if it would help Steve, believe me,” I try to stroke Clint's face but he moves his head away, his beautiful eyes hate-filled. I sigh and press my lips together. He hates me and he has every right to hate me. I would hate me if I were him. 

“Yeah,” he says and looks away and I can see him swallow nervously. He's terrified. “Sure, Bucky,” he says and I realize that he called me 'Bucky' twice in just a few minutes. 

“You call me Bucky?” I ask quietly but I know his answer before he can say it.

“You deserve that name,” he spits and I know what he means. He probably would've said more but then we both hear a car arrive and I see him swallow even more. 

“He will betray you, keep that in mind,” he looks at me over his shoulder when the black stretch-limousine stops in front of us. The driver gets out, scrutinizes us before he opens the door for Sussman. 

The man gets out with a bright smile on his face. Two big, burly guys in black suits and sunglasses follow him out of the car. “Mr. Barnes,” he greets me but then his eyes move to Clint and I can see the dark lust in his eyes. I want to rip them out and squash them with my bare hands. I hate this man. And Clint makes a small step backwards. 

“I see you kept your side of our bargain,” he says and comes over to us. He cups Clint's face with his hand. Clint unwillingly moves his head but I still hold him. He can't get away but I can feel him tremble slightly.

“Do you have the cure?” I snarl and the man's grin broadens. 

“Of course, Mr. Barnes.” He turns to one of the burly guys and he reaches into his jacket pocket and shows me a small package. 

Sussman gestures to the man to open it. It contains a syringe, filled with a blue liquid. “You have to inject all of it. Damian here will give it to you as soon as we're gone. Don't do anything dumb or he will destroy the cure,” he says and I nod slowly. And when he raises his brow I take a deep breath, grit my teeth and push Clint over to him. His two burly bodyguards grab his arms. He tries to shrink back but they hold him relentless. His breathing speeds up and he swallows again and again. 

“It's a pleasure doing business with you, Mr. Barnes,” Sussman says and I have to concentrate to not beat him to a bloody pulp. He turns to his car but then he stopps, looks over his shoulder and turns back again. His grin broadens and then he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a leather strap: a collar. “I think you should have the honor,” he says and holds it in my direction. My mouth goes dry. 

“What?” I ask dizzily. 

“Put it on him,” Sussman's smirk was gone. I shake my head and he squeezes his eyes. “You want the cure, so, put it on him.” Slowly I take the collar. Clint shakes his head. 

“No!” He yelps but then again, I need the cure for Steve. He's going to die if I don't give him the cure. I hate Sussman even more while I close the distance to Clint. 

“I'm so sorry,” I whisper and he closes his eyes, looks away. I can feel him shake and the only thing I really want to do is kill Sussman slow and painful but I know that I have to do what he wants as long as I don't have the cure. I put the strap around Clint's neck and he swallows so hard and when I lock it I see a tear run along Clint's face. 

“Fuck you, Bucky,” he says. 

“You have what you want. Give me the cure now,” I demand and Sussman nods. 

“I'd prefer to get Damian back unharmed. Otherwise little Clint here has to be punished,” he says and gestures to his bodyguards. They push Clint into the limousine and Sussman and one of the guys follow him. The other one, Damian, stays back. The driver starts the engine and they drive off. Damian carefully takes the package out of his pocket and hands it to me, smiles, and walks away. I can grab him, take him prisoner, hurt him, but Clint is the one who has to pay the price. 

So I grit my teeth, take the package with the syringe, go to the car and open the door. I close my eyes for a second and repress the urge to hurt myself. Steve needs me right now, he needs the cure and I need Steve. I need him to help me find Clint and bring him back. 

“I'll find you, I promise,” I murmur when I finally start the engine to drive back to the Tower.

***

I manage five minutes, then I have to stop the car. I stop at the curb, open the passenger's door and throw up into the curbstone. A few people stare at me and I'm pretty sure one of them calls the cops but I don't care right now. I just delivered the man I love to his slaver slash rapist to save my best friend and – understandably enough – he hates me now. He called me Bucky. More than once and that hurt more than I want to admit. But he was right, I deserve it.

Bile rises again in my throat and I spit it into the gutter as well. I don't want to imagine what Sussman does to Clint right now. He's helpless and I know it's my fault. But my eyes fall onto the package and I remember, why I had to do this. Steve. He needs the cure and I wipe away the wetness in my eyes. I try to convince myself that it's just a side effect from throwing up but I know it better. 

I slide back onto the driver's seat and merge into the traffic. When I turn around the corner I can see a police car appear where I stood mere minutes ago but I don't care. When they want to talk to me, I'm pretty sure the guy who called them wrote down the number from the license plate and they can come over to the tower. Right now I need to help Steve.

I drive into the parking garage below the tower and jog to the elevator. It doesn't take too long and I'm on the communal floor.

“JARVIS, can you tell me where Steve is?” I ask the AI and look around in the empty living room. Maybe Steve's symptoms got worse and the team is with him. I hope I'm not too late.

“He's in his apartment, sir,” JARVIS says and I thank him. 

I head up to his floor and knock but when no one opens I try the handle. The door is open and I frown. Even if he lives in the tower where no one outside of a selected group of people has access, he still loves his sphere of personal privacy. And he usually keeps his doors locked.

“Steve?” I call him and then I wait a few seconds but he doesn't answer. “Steve?” I try it again but still no answer. I walk into the back of his apartment and knock at the door to his bedroom. But after a few seconds I open the door. The room is empty, his bed is neatly made and everything is in its usual place. But no Steve. The door to the en-suite bathroom is open as well so I'm pretty sure he's not in there. 

“Steve?” I call again when I'm back in the corridor. But then I hear a sound. I follow this sound and... someone hums a melody. In Steve's atelier. Carefully I open the door and then I can only stare with mouth agape. 

Steve, whom I'd expected lying in his bed dying, sits behind his easel and paints, the earbuds of his iPod in his ears (that's why he didn't hear me calling) and hums to whatever songs he just listens to. He looks healthy but when I move he startles, rips out the earbuds and glares at me.

“For Pete's sake! Bucky! Are you nuts?” He blurts out, a hand over his chest, panting quickly.

“What are you doing?” I ask him stupidly and now he frowns.

“Is everything okay, Buck?” he wants to know and I look around, search for signs of him dying in near future. 

“Are you okay, Steve?” I ignore his question because I need to know. 

“What? Uhm... yes?” He cocks his head, rises from his chair and comes over to me. 

“But... but the symptoms? You... you've had the symptoms, Steve...” I grab his shoulders and nearly shake him.

“I've told you it's just the flu. The serum took care of it. What's wrong, Bucky? You're pale as death.” He looks at me worriedly and finally my knees give in and I feel the package Sussman's bodyguard had given me, fall onto the ground. The syringe rolls out and lies in front of me as if it wanted to mock me. 

“What have I done?” I blurt out. Clint had warned me that Sussman would betray me and he was right. And I have given him to this bastard for nothing at all. “What have I done?” I scream.


	3. Chapter 3

At first I want to storm out of the apartment and wring Sussman's neck immediately but Steve holds me back. He makes me sit down on the couch in the corner of his atelier and then I tell him everything. He doesn't interrupt me, he just listens. 

“Well, shit,” Steve sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose when I finish. I know it's really fucked up because in all the time I know him, Steve never swore. 

“I know,” I murmur. And then I give in the urge to put my forehead onto my knees and fold both hands over my head. The nausea is back. “He warned me and I... I did it nevertheless, Steve.” 

“Bucky...” Steve says and places his hand on my back. 

“I need to find him. And then I kill Sussman!” I look up and Steve has an unreadable expression on his face. I know he doesn't want me to kill people when they are not some supervillains or a threat to whole mankind. But this man tricked me to hand Clint over to him. He's going to hurt him and Steve knows that as well. “Can you...” I stop and lick my lips. “Can you help me?” 

Steve looks at me and then, after a moment, he nods. “Sure, Buck. But...”

“No, please, don't tell the team. We... we can find him alone, right?” I plead and I know how desperate I sound. “I don't want them to know till we have him back.” 

“We could need their help,” Steve says and sits down beside me. The way he looks at me makes me more than uncomfortable. I know that I have fucked it up. Royally. And when Clint is back I'm going to leave. What I've done to him, I can never make up for it. No, to leave would be too easy. I know that Steve knows where the rest of SHIELD is. He can turn me in when Clint is free. I don't care what they do to me, I deserve everything. They can lock me up or put a bullet in my brain, whatever they want, I'll take it. 

“Please, Steve. Just you and me.” My voice wavers. “As it used to be.” 

“Okay. But if we can't find him we'll call the team.” 

I look at him for a long moment before I nod. “Okay,” I whisper. I don't want the rest of the team involved. Not because I don't trust them, because I do, or I don't want them to know, because I don't care if they judge me. I want to do it myself because it was me who had fucked it up. So I need to save him. 

“So, what do you know about Sussman?” Steve asks me over his shoulder. He walks to his kitchenette, grabs two mugs and puts them in the high tech coffee maker Tony had built in in all the apartments. He presses a button and turns around. 

I shrug but then I try to remember what Tony dug out some time ago. 

“He should still be in jail. I don't know if Tony found out why he was released but he should still be in jail. He had lost most of his money, he lost his company, Sussman Pharmaceuticals, but rumor says he's a talented pharmaceutical chemist. That's why I believed him when he said he had poisoned you.” 

“So, he lost most of his money means?” Steve asks and I shrug again. 

“I don't know. He's no billionaire anymore but he's still loaded.” 

“That means he can hire a private plane and fly to wherever he wants to be,” Steve sighs, hands me a mug and flops down beside me with his own coffee. He takes a long sip while I just stare into the black liquid in the cup. When I lean back and stare up to the ceiling I have an idea. 

“JARVIS! Can you, by chance, help us without Tony noticing?” I ask.

“Of course, sir.” The AI sounds a little indignant. “But if I may add, Master Stark's brainpower could be helpful to find Agent Barton.” 

“I know, JARVIS. But for now I only want your help.” 

“Certainly. I'm going to check every airport around here if Mr. Sussman hired a private plane.” 

“Thanks, JARVIS,” I say and look at Steve. He scrutinizes me with this unreadable expression again. I know he wants to call the team but... 

“Would it be okay if I call a friend? At SHIELD?” He asks me and when I open my mouth he adds, “I promise she won't tell the Avengers.” 

“Okay,” I agree, empty the mug in one big gulp (and burn my throat because the coffee is still hot) and put it onto the table. “I... I have to... you know...” I gesture at the door and Steve nods. I was already half out of the door when I have an idea. I go back, take the syringe and put it back into the package. I know someone who can check this for me. I want to know what's in it. And I can't do anything till JARVIS or Steve's contact (Sharon!) find something out anyway. 

“Hey, Bucky,” Steve interrupts me before I can leave. I turn around to him and he smiles at me. “We'll find him,” he says. I smile back even if I don't feel like smiling and nod. 

“Thanks, Steve.”

***

I linger around in a corner and watch the door to the labs for quite some time now. Tony is still in there, I can see him through the glass walls, but I don't want to talk to him. I need Bruce. I have to wait another half hour before Tony finally leaves. I wait another five minutes but he doesn't come back. I take a deep breath and walk to the door. It's locked, I know that. It's always locked since the incident with the escaped nanobots.

Bruce looks up from his work with a smile on his face but when he sees me he furrows his brows. I know he didn't expect me. Usually I avoid the labs. I'm not overly keen of labs since I remembered what HYDRA had done to me. And once more I feel like a hypocritical bastard.

Bruce opens the door and gestures with his hand for me to come in. Slowly – warily – I look around.

“So, what brings you down here?” He asks and leans against one of the tables. He folds his arms in front of his chest and unfolds them a second later. Maybe he thought it would appear too offish.

“I need your help, Bruce,” I say and he nods slowly.

“My help?” He asks and raises one brow. 

“Yes,” I say and reach into my pocket, take the package Sussman's bodyguard had given me. I open it and show him the syringe with the blue liquid in it. “Can you find out what this is?” I ask him and Bruce scrutinizes me for a few seconds. “Please,” I add.

“I can try it,” he says and reaches for the package. 

“But...” I stop and lick my lips. “Can you please not tell the team? Steve knows but...” 

Bruce's eyes bore into mine and he holds his hand over the package for a very long moment. 

“Is it dangerous?” He asks then and I shrug. 

“They told me it's a cure. But I want to be sure.” 

“A cure?” He asks and cocks his head. “What for?” 

I have to look away from his piercing gaze. It reminds me a lot of Clint. “Please, Bruce. I...” 

“Okay, I'll take a look at it.” Bruce finally takes the package and puts it onto the table. He turns and I look around, see a stool and sit down to wait. “Oh! You want me to look immediately?” 

“If you don't have anything important to do?” I ask and Bruce removes his glasses to clean them. It's one of his quirks. When he's _nervous_ he always cleans his glasses, sometimes more than once. 

“Okay. Fine,” he says, takes the package and opens it. I watch him but I have no clue what he does. I just stare at the watch and hope that Steve or JARVIS would find something about Sussman's whereabouts. Every now and then I look over to Bruce. He makes a lot of tests and then – nearly an hour later – he leans back, yawns and pinches the bridge of his nose again. 

“Who gave this to you?” Bruce asked and looked at me, his head cocked. 

“I... I can't tell you,” I whisper and he nods. 

“I'm glad that you asked me to take a look, Bucky. Whoever gave it to you betrayed you. If you'd used it, it would've killed you. Or whomever this was meant for.” 

“What is it?” I hear my voice waver but I know that he won't be able to hear the difference.

“It's...” he starts but then he stops himself and sighs. “Let's put it this way, it's highly poisonous. It's strong enough to even kill someone like Steve or you.” 

“Oh my god,” I blurt out and I feel myself pale. But when I see Bruce open his mouth I interrupt him and rise form the stool I sit on. “Thanks, Bruce. I owe you one.” 

I don't look back, just hurry out of the lab. Sussman, that dirty son of a bitch, gave me poison and if I'd given it to Steve I would've killed him and then, then the Avengers would've killed me. Perfect plan. Unfortunately, for Sussman, it didn't work. And I'm so gonna hurt this bastard, he will curse the day his mother had born him.

***

Steve is in the control room, alone, bent over a table and looking at his StarkPad.

“Okay, JARVIS. I understand. Thanks for the trouble,” he says when I approach and I hear him sigh. He hangs his head and pinches the bridge of his nose but then I'm close enough and he looks at me. 

“What's wrong?” I ask and I can't hide the worry in my voice. And I know that Steve has heard it because he turns around completely.

“JARVIS couldn't find Sussman. Apparently his house is abandoned and...” he starts but I interrupt him.

“How do you know?” I ask.

“I've checked his power and water consumption and it plummeted in the last days. I'm still checking if he has other houses or apartments but it's difficult. As it seems Mr. Sussman has covered his tracks perfectly.” The AI sounds a little bit resigned. “I'd say he has planned it for a long time.” 

“The _cure_ he had given me,” I say and Steve looks up. “It would've killed you.” 

“How do you know?” Steve asks and I sigh. 

“I've asked Bruce to analyze it. I would've killed you and then the team would probably have killed me. Or at least locked me up so I wouldn't be able to go after him.” 

“Okay, what can we do now?” Steve asks and looks at the ceiling.

“I'd suggest you call the Avengers, Captain Rogers,” JARVIS says. Steve looks at me and I can't hold his gaze, I look away. I wanted to find him myself but...

“No, that's not an option,” Steve says and my head snaps up. I scrutinize him and he smiles a little bit. “Not yet.” 

“I can try to follow the money trail, Captain Rogers, Sergeant Barnes,” the AI says and it sounds like a sigh in my ears.

“That's a good idea, JARVIS,” Steve says and looks at me. 

“Thanks, JARVIS,” I murmur. “And thanks, Steve,” I add then. 

“We have to talk about this, Bucky,” Steve says and folds his arms in front of his chest. “But first we have to find Clint. When we have him, we talk.” 

“When we have him, Steve, you're going to arrest me,” I say and close the distance between us. Steve furrows his brows and opens his mouth but I raise my hand and interrupt him. “No, I'll take the consequences. You'll bring me to SHIELD, well, what's left of it, and...” 

This time Steve interrupts me. “Bucky, come on. First we have to find Clint. So, please concentrate now.” 

I nod. 

“What about Natasha?” Steve suddenly blurts and I frown. “She's Clint's best friend and the best spy I know. She could help us. And she won't tell the team if we ask her for it.” 

“She'll kill me on sight, but if she can help to find him, call her.” I'm nervous, but I would never admit it. I knew Natasha before she was SHIELD, before she was an Avenger and I know what she's capable of. She likes me, she said that, but it was different between us, never like her friendship with Clint. He's like a brother to her and I'm pretty sure she will kick my ass back to Moscow when she learns what I've done. But she can help, Steve is right.

“Okay,” he says and pats my shoulder. When I look away he takes a deep breath. “We'll find him, Buck.” 

“I won't stop until Clint is free, Steve.” I say and I know that he sees that I will kill Sussman as soon as we have him in my eyes but he only pats may shoulder and nods. And then he calls Natasha.

***

Natasha looks at me, her eyes squinted and her arms folded, before she shakes her head.

“He said, he would kill Steve,” I repeat and she just shakes her head and I'm pretty sure she deliberates to beat me again. I can still feel her knee in my guts. 

“It's Sussman, ass hat!” She snarls and I've never heard her as angry as before. Only Steve could hold her back to rip out my throat immediately. “You know, what he had done to him and you hand him over to him? What the fuck is wrong with you?” 

“He said, he would kill Steve,” I repeat once more. “I had to do something. I've thought I could...” I say but Natasha interrupts me.

“What? Save him? You've asked Stark about Sussman, you knew that he's a highly intelligent and manipulative bastard, goddammit!” Natasha gesticulates with her hands and that tells me how furious she is. “You should've taken into consideration that he covers his ass, that he has a fallback plan for his fallback plans. Did you really believe that you could outwit him? Sussman is brilliant and nearly as intelligent as Stark.” 

“I had to make a decision quickly, Natasha,” I try to explain but with a harsh gesture she interrupts me again. 

“You should've called us! Banner and Stark would've analyzed the _virus_...” 

“Toxic agent,” I mumble and Natasha's glare is murderous. “He had the symptoms, Nat,” I say and she once more glares at me. 

“Yeah, he betrayed you, who'd have thought that?” Natasha starts to pace. “Damn it, James, why didn't you call us?” 

“I don't know. I guess... I... I don't know. I've thought I have it under control. I've thought I can get the cure and then free Clint.” 

“Really, James? And...” Natasha snarls but this time Steve interrupts her. 

“It's okay, Natasha. He got the message.” Steve stops her pacing and when she opens her mouth to continue her ramble he raises his hand and cuts her short. “It's not helpful right now. At the moment our mission is to free Clint and you can beat him to a pulp afterwards.” 

I raise my brow but I keep my mouth shut. I've never heard something like that out of Steve's mouth – well, as far as I remember and there are still quite some holes – but he's right. It's not helpful right now. 

“I've already said, that I will take the consequences, Nat, and I mean it. Can you help us now to find Clint?” I ask and Natasha snorts and turns around, her mobile already in her hand.

“Of course you can,” I nod and press my lips together. She dials and starts to speak in a language I don't know. Maybe Arabic or something like that. I have no idea and when I look at Steve he can't understand her as well. She talks for about a minute and then she quits the call only to dial again. 

After about twenty different calls, some in other languages, she looks at me and then at Steve. 

“Well?” Steve asks and she lifts her shoulders for a second.

“I've called everyone who can possibly help us. They will call back but they need a little time,” she says and I nod thankfully. But she still glares angrily at me. 

“That means we have to wait,” Steve states and I feel something twist in my stomach. But I keep my mouth shut, I know it's my fault since I've been such an idiot. I only hope her contacts call back soon. The sooner, the better. For Clint's sake. I still don't want to try to imagine what Sussman does to him right now. I can't. I need to stay focused. There's time enough to freak out when Clint is back.

“Thanks,” I say when Natasha turns to leave Steve's living room. She stops, looks at me and then, after a very long moment, she nods. 

“This is not over, Barnes,” she says. I understand. We're going to have _this talk_ later. 

“JARVIS?” Steve asks when Natasha has left the apartment. 

“I'm still on it but it's more difficult than I have expected, Captain Rogers.” 

“Thanks, JARVIS.” Steve comes over, grabs my shoulder and I let him. He steers me into his kitchen and I sit down at the breakfast bar. He prepares a cup of coffee and a cup of tea, hands me the coffee and sits down beside me and sips his tea. We have done what we could to find him, now it's up to Natasha and JARVIS. And we can only wait and try not to despair.

***

I'm in my room when Steve finds me. I didn't bother to switch on the light and so it's dark. He looks around, squints his eyes but then he spots me on my armchair. I had to be alone for a few hours, to think, to rest. It's a week now that Clint is gone and I haven't slept too much since then. Whenever I close my eyes I see Clint's, see the accusing glance and that keeps me awake. Whenever I try to sleep I can see Sussman touching him, hurting him. Steve had told the team that Clint is on a mission and Natasha had covered his story.

“Natasha got a call,” he says when he comes closer. He turns the other armchair around so that he can face me and sits down. 

“Do we know where he is?” I ask and Steve nods, then shrugs. 

“We have a few promising leads and Natasha's contact says he's pretty sure that he knows where Sussman is.” Steve says quietly and I look up at him. 

“Promising leads?” I snort and Steve sighs. 

“We're pretty sure that he's there,” Steve says before he looks away for a second. 

“Where?” I ask. 

“Apparently he has a beach villa not far away from Acapulco,” Steve explains and my eyes snap open. 

“I've thought the tax authorities confiscated all his stuff when they arrested him for tax fraud? Tony said they...” 

“Officially it's his cousin's house.” 

“How do you know that he's there?” I ask. And I feel a knot in my chest. I really hope he's there, that we found him.

“Natasha says her contact is reliable and JARVIS confirmed it,” Steve says. 

“Mr. Sussman has visited a coffee shop in Acapulco, sir, and I could spot him on their surveillance video,” the AI chips in. 

“So, he's really there?” I ask hopefully and Steve nods slowly. 

“Yes. Natasha is already on her way to the airport to take the next flight.” 

“When can we follow her?” I ask and stand up, ready to follow her immediately. 

“We need a plan. We need information and Natasha is the best spy I know,” Steve grabs my arm when I want to go to the door. “Wait, Bucky, you _can't_ go now, we need a plan.” 

“We know where he is, Steve. We need to get him out as fast as possible,” I plead and Steve grabs my arm more tightly. 

“I know and that's why we need a plan. We can't just go in and shoot at everyone,” he says.

“Why not? I'm the Winter Soldier and that's how I operate,” I say and Steve shakes his head. 

“No, Bucky. You are not the Winter Soldier, not anymore...” he starts but I interrupt him.

“I will always be the Winter Soldier. It's what I am now. I gave the man I love to his enemy, that's nothing a normal person would do. I am still the monster Hydra made out of me.” 

“But you have to be Bucky if you want to save Clint,” Steve says quietly and with a sob I finally sit down. And then I feel a tear run over my face. It drops from my chin onto my hand and more tears follow the first one and suddenly I can't stop it anymore. Steve wraps his arm around me and I let him. I can't help myself, all the pent-up emotions I didn't allow myself to have overwhelm me. I'm such a monster and Clint has to suffer because of it.

Steve doesn't say another word, he just holds me and pats my shoulder every now and then and he waits till I recollect myself. 

“Okay,” he whispers. “I know that you want Clint free as fast as possible, but we need a plan. Natasha will check out the situation and she'll call us as soon as possible. In the meantime we need to conceive a plan. Do you think you can do that?”

I nod and Steve smiles. It's a sad smile and I know that he wants to follow Natasha as desperately as I want to. But he's right. If we want to get Clint out alive we need a plan. A good plan. And the sooner we start to plan, the sooner we can get him out of Sussman's clutches. 

When Steve looks at the door and then back to me I understand his implied question and I nod again and follow him to the control room. Time to make a plan.

***

We had to wait two days for Natasha to call. I'm in the control room with Steve when his phone beeps. He takes the call and then he put her on speakerphone and places his mobile on the table between us, onto the map we have.

“Okay, Natasha, he can hear you,” Steve says and looks up at me. I swallow.

“Nadir's been right. Sussman is here. I've seen him and I've checked out the house,” Natasha says and I can hear the disapproval in her voice. “It's like a fortress.” 

“What does that mean?” Steve asks and Natasha huffs. 

“There's a five-yards high wall around the estate and he has guards there. I can see at least twelve guys with weapons patrolling. He has cameras all over the property. I have no idea how he can afford it, you've said the tax office confiscated nearly all his money.” 

“He's still millionaire, Natasha,” Steve says and looks at me now. “And – as mentioned – he's brilliant. He started his company with twenty-three and he was billionaire with twenty-nine.” Steve looks at the information Tony had given me some time ago. “Don't you think he can manage to come into money again?” 

“Yeah, you're right. Fact is, this house is a fortress and Sussman is here.” 

“We're coming,” I say and Steve raises his brow. We have no idea how to get there since we can't take a regular flight with our equipment. 

“Okay, I'll wait for you. I'll keep the building and Sussman under observation. But I suggest you hurry up. I want Clint out of there as fast as possible.” Natasha quits the call without another word. 

“Okay, we need...” I start but I get interrupted when the door to the control room opens. Steve looks up and I turn around and then I know that I pale. Tony, Bruce and Thor are in the doorway, glaring at us. 

“So,” Tony says and strolls in, looking around curiously. Bruce and Thor follow him. Bruce leans against one of the tables and Thor folds his arm in front of his chest. “You're hiding in here again.” 

Tony sits down on a chair and his eyes dart from Steve to me and back. 

“What's wrong,” Bruce asks and I look to Steve. He licks his lips and swallows. “You two and Natasha behave secretively for days now, Clint is gone and no one knows where he is and don't try that hoax with his _mission_ again. We know that he's not on a mission, Tony hacked the SHIELD servers. And now Natasha disappeared, too. So, what's wrong?” 

I look at Steve and he looks at me and then I nod. Just slightly but he understands. 

“Clint is held captive by Landon Sussnam,” he says quietly and I hear Tony gasp. I can't look in his direction. 

“How is that possible?” Thor wants to know now and I have to sit down. But when I see Steve open his mouth I stop him with a wave of my hand.

“It's my fault,” I say. Thor, Tony and Bruce look at me now and I take a deep breath and start to explain. “You remember the day we visited that children's hospital? And the one kid who gave Steve a lollipop?” When they nod I continue. “Sussman waited for me at the coffee shop two days later and told me he had poisoned the handle and that Steve would die. He said it would start with flu like symptoms and when I came back Steve had them,” I say.

Bruce nods. “Yes, I remember. I wondered that you even could have the flu with the serum.” 

“Sussman said, Steve would die in a short time and he would give me the cure if...” I stop for a second.

“If you hand Clint over to him,” Tony finishes my sentence. I only can nod. 

“You gave Clint to this man?” Thor asks, his voice raised, and he glares at me horrified and I nod again and whisper, “Yes.” 

“Fuck!” Tony blurts and slams his hand down onto the table in front of him. “Are you completely retarted?” 

“Tony,” Steve says and the brunette turns to him now. 

“What? We all know...” Tony tries again but Steve glares at him.

“That's not helpful right now,” he says harshly. Tony snorts but he keeps quiet. 

“The cure... was that the blue liquid you asked me to test?” Bruce asks and I nod once more. 

“It would've killed Steve if I had given it to him,” I say and Tony frowns now. 

“All in all I would say this was a clever plan,” Thor sighs and looks at Steve. “This would have sundered the team and this man would have gotten away with his scheme.”

“Yes,” Steve agrees. 

“So, what are we going to do?” Tony asks now and I look at him. I can see that he's still angry. But I can also see that he's willing to help us to free Clint. I know we would deal with my betrayal afterwards. 

“One of Natasha's contacts found Sussman, he's in Acapulco and Natasha is already there to check out the location,” I say and Thor and Bruce come closer to the table where he have a map of the area. “But we already have a big part of a plan.” 

“Okay,” Tony says and comes over as well. “Let's talk about the plan.”

***

I have to admit, it became easier with the help of two geniuses and a god, who fought so many battles no one can count them. Tony hacked a satellite and checked the area and together with Natasha's information we knew everything we needed for the plan Steve, Thor and me made.

And now we're here, in Acapulco, not far away from Sussman's villa, waiting for Steve to give us the go. With Tony's private plane we could bring our equipment without involving SHIELD. I'm nervous. I know Clint is in there and I want to go as fast as possible but Steve said he needs to check something first. 

“Dammit,” I mutter into my comm.

“Radio discipline,” I hear Steve's voice and Natasha, who's beside me, glares at me. I know I need to focus. I need to calm down, to leave all my emotions behind me, to become _him_ again. I take a deep breath, another one and then one more. I concentrate and lock Bucky away, lock James away, lock _Jamie_ away. I lock all my emotions into my subconsciousness. I see the woman beside me look at me but I don't care. I know I have a mission and I only wait for my handler to give me the go. 

I know the plan, I know the enemies and when my handler finally says we go in and the female agent with the red hair beside me rises and moves forward I follow her. Together we take out all of the enemies in our way. I don't even need to shoot too many of them. I mostly use my knife and I enjoy it, I enjoy to hurt them. I have no idea why I enjoy this, I never felt like this before on a mission. But this time it is different. It is as if I know somehow that they deserve to die painfully. 

The redhead turns to the stairs once we're inside of the house and I see other... agents?... fight. They take out the evil guys as effectively as me and her. Inside of the house are more guards and they try to stop us and then I can make out the mark, an older man with receding hairline and a shocked expression on his face. My handler didn't tell me to kill this man but I know somehow that I need to make him hurt. One of the guards tries to stop me when I climb up the stairs but I only glare at the mark and shove the guard out of my way and over the railing of the stairs and I hear him yell but I don't care. 

My mark turns on his heels and runs away and I follow him. Another guard attacks me and I grab his arm, turn him around and he screams but his scream dies together with him when I snap his neck. 

“No, stop! Barnes, stop!” My mark screams but I just glare at him and he pales when I don't stop walking. He opens a door and slams it shut behind himself. I kick it in and now I can sense the red haired agent behind me. She's at my side when we enter the room. It's a bedroom with a strange bed. It looks as if it's on top of a sunken, sturdy cage and the mark just pulls another man - _Clint!_ \- out of the cage and presses a gun at his temple. 

_Oh my god, Clint!_

The man is naked and chained, I can see a collar around his neck and he tries to struggle but he seems to be in a bad shape, his movements sluggish and slow.

_What has this bastard done to you?_

“Don't move! Or I kill him!” The mark yells but I don't stop glaring at him. The red haired woman beside me walks to the side and the mark moves his gun away from his prisoner's temple and aims at her, then at me, then at her again. He's nervous and not really trained, I can see that. The woman makes a show in putting her gun down onto the ground and the mark aims at her now. The prisoner uses his chance and kicks his knee and the man staggers back. It's enough distraction for me. In an instant I'm on him and I grab his wrist with the gun. To break it is not a problem with my metal arm, I hear the bones scrunch and the man screams. I don't stop, I grab his other arm and break it as well and he screams even more.

“Barnes!” The red haired agent yells. I ignore her. My mission is to make this man suffer. I grab his throat and squeeze but not enough to kill him. My handler said I'm not supposed to kill him but I somehow know that he has to suffer. I growl when he tries to struggle but with his broken limbs he can't free himself and his face turns purple with lack of breath and he moves his mouth.

“Barnes! Stop!” The woman says again. I don't listen to her, I'm about to break the man's spine. Not to kill him, just to make sure that he's never be able to move again. But then I hear another voice.

“James.” It's a quiet voice, barely audible but I immediately let the guy drop and turn around. The prisoner looks at me and I take a breath, another breath and I feel the fog in my brain clear. “Stop, James,” the man says and I know him. 

“Clint!” I whisper. He nods, slowly and I let Sussman slump down. I make a step in Clint's direction and I see Natasha walk over to Sussman. Clint stands there, looks at me and when I make another step he wavers and then he faints. I move as fast as possible to grab him and I hold him when he closes his eyes. 

“Clint!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NSFW and 18+!! [The bed](http://letscbtplay.tumblr.com/post/114870229107/more-bdsm-photos-and-videos)


	4. Chapter 4

“Step back!” Natasha snarls when I have Clint in my arms. I don't want to lay him onto the ground and so I put my hand under his knees and put him onto the strange bed. “I said, step back. Don't touch him,” she repeats and I finally obey, I move back. 

She goes to Sussman and searches his pockets and there is a key chain. She looks at it till she has a certain key and with it she opens the manacles around Clint's wrists. I stay as close as she allows and I let my eyes roam over Clint's unconscious body. He looks bad. His wrists are chafed, he has lost weight, he has welts on his chest and his arms and I know they are on his back as well. He has pierced nipples now and they seem slightly inflamed and Sussman had locked him in a cock cage. And I see puncture wounds in his left arm. Sussman had given him drugs. Natasha removes the collar and throws it away violently. 

“Barnes,” she says but I'm busy with taking in the bedroom. The bed Sussman used to sleep in was really the top of a cage. It is sunken into the floor – the prisoner has to make a _step_ down - so he could get into it comfortably but the cage is made of solid bars. There's a chain leading into the cage and I'm pretty sure Clint was tied with it. The cage has the same dimensions as the bed – king size – but it's not high enough to stand, he could barely sit in it comfortably and there's a small door to get in and out with a solid lock on the outside. 

“Barnes!” Natasha snarls again and I turn my head away from the cage and to her. “Bruce. Call him.” 

I look at her for a long moment but when she raises her brow I nod and turn around to leave the bedroom. I don't want to leave but Clint needs a doctor and Bruce is the closest we have. I walk to the banister and look down into the entrance hall.

“Thor!” I yell when I see the Asgardian wipe his hands clean with his cape and look around somewhat satisfied. When he looks up, I ask, “Is Bruce there?” 

“Yes, he is with Steve to bandage his wound,” he says. “Do you need him?” 

“Not me, but Clint. It's urgent,” I say and he walks away immediately. I can hear him talk to Bruce quietly and only a few seconds later the curly head of the scientist appears at the foot of the stairs.

“What's wrong?” He asks and starts to climb the stairs. 

“Clint. He... he fainted,” I tell him and he hurries up, his bag in his hand. I lead him into the bedroom and I hear him gasp when he sees the bed and Clint. 

“Let me see him,” he murmurs and Natasha steps back a bit but she still stays at Clint's side. I stay in the room and try to ignore her hateful glances in my direction. 

Bruce checks Clint over and I can see him stir slightly, he seems to come around. Bruce sees the puncture wounds in his arm and curses quietly. 

“Bucky, look around, maybe you can find out what kind of drug he had given him,” he says and I nod, once, brief. I start immediately to search the bedroom and when I open the drawers at the bedside I nearly puke. He has all kinds of _toys_ in it, dildos, whips, floggers, a riding crop and lube but no drugs. I can't find anything in the whole bedroom. 

There's another door and I open it. It's a bathroom and I continue my search. When I open the drawer beside the sink I can find a small, locked box and I take it back to the bedroom.

“Do you have his key chain?” I ask and Natasha takes it and chucks it over to me. I catch it and search for the key and then I unlock the box. I pale. Syringes, a tourniquet and a half empty plastic bag with a powdery substance in it. 

“I guess it's heroin,” I say and show Bruce the box. 

“Damn bastard,” he mutters and I turn to Sussman, who's unconscious on the ground and I can't stop myself, I have to kick his kidneys. He'll suffer for that, I promise myself. 

“Okay, call Thor and Steve, we need to get him to the jet, I have some equipment there,” he says.

“Right,” I say and leave the bedroom again to call Steve and Thor. I wait downstairs till the two, Bruce and Natasha brought Clint out of the house and to one of the cars Tony had provided before I go back to the bedroom, back to Sussman. Tony, who's still in the house with me, looks at me but he doesn't stop me. He just nods and then he turns to leave the entrance hall. And I have to have a _talk_ with Sussman right now.

***

I open the door to the bedroom. Sussman is still unconscious. Apparently breaking both his arms and nearly breaking his spine was a little too much. This time, without _distraction_ , I take in the rest of the room. Still, the bed draws the most attention in this room. But now I look around. I see a St. Andrew's cross on one of the walls, I see an assortment of more instruments of torture on a shelf. More whips, floggers, paddles, crops, canes, withies, clamps, needles, weights, electrodes, cords, rope, tape, gags, dildos, plugs... a BDSM store would be proud about this assortment. Whatever you can come up with to hurt other people, Sussman has it. There's a bench in one corner where you can tie up someone and then there's some sort of a sawhorse but the beam on top is pointy and when I read the manacles correctly, then Clint had to sit on the pointy beam, tied with his ankles to the legs of the sawhorse. I run my hand over the beam and I know that it had to be painful as fuck.

“Damn bastard,” I mutter when I turn away from the sawhorse. I kneel down beside the bed and look into the cage. There's nothing in it but a thin sheet. Clint had to lie on the bare floor if he wanted to sleep and he could either cover himself with the sheet or lie on it. 

Sussman is still out cold and I leave the bedroom and go back to the bathroom. Beside the bathroom is the dressing room. I take a look and I have to swallow, when I see what's in there. Another cage, this one even more cruel than the one beneath the bed. It's small and the prisoner is barely able to sit. He needs to draw his legs close to his body and even then it's uncomfortable to put it mildly. This one is definitely for punishment and I can see that it has been used, there's blood on the bars. I'm getting sick when I think about Clint being locked up in there. And I know that it's my fault. 

I can't help myself, I go back into the bedroom and kick Sussman again but when he doesn't move I get some water from the bathroom and pour it over his face. It is working and he splutters awake. He tries to turn around but with broken bones in both his arms it's impossible. I hunker down beside him and turn him onto his back and when he looks up at me I can see naked fear. He knows my reputation, has probably seen the footage from Washington, DC, yet he had challenged me. And I need to know why. 

“So,” I say and Sussman licks his lips. His Adam's apple bobs up and down and he looks at the door. “Don't wait for your bodyguards. They are dead or arrested.” 

“You can't have him. He's mine,” he says and I raise one brow. Even now he's still under the illusion that a person can own another person, that he owns Clint. 

“Clint is free and you will never see him again,” I say. He howls in frustration. 

“He's mine! I paid for him. His brother gave him to me and he's mine,” he repeated. I'm pretty sure that this man is completely nuts. He can't possibly believe that he can _own_ Clint.

“You hurt him,” I state matter-of-factly and I see him swallow again frantically. “You tricked me to hand him over to you and I nearly killed Steve. But your plan backfired. Steve is alive, the team is with Clint and you... you are alone, hurt and no one is here to stop me.” 

“You can't kill me!” He blurts and tries to sit up again but his arms still don't hold him. He yelps in pain but I only smile when his face shows how much pain he's in. 

“Because of you I betrayed the man I love, do you understand that? I had to chose between Steve, who's as close as a brother to me, and Clint, whom I love since I met him. You forced me to choose between the devil and the deep blue sea, as my mom used to say. So, tell my why I can't kill you?” 

“You... you can't... because...” he says and licks his lips and looks to the door again. 

“Don't worry, _Mr. Sussman_ , I won't kill you. But I will see to it that you will never touch anyone ever again.” I grab him and turn him back onto his belly. He groans with pain when I roll him over his broken arm and when I touch his spine he whimpers. 

“We had a deal,” he says but it sounds more like a plea. 

“You tricked me, you bastard,” I lean down and whisper in his ear and I feel him tremble beneath me. “You forced me to give Clint to you, his worst nightmare, you made me collar him and I've sworn to make you curse the day you've been born.” 

“Don't kill him, Barnes,” I hear Tony's voice from the door and I look over my shoulder for a second, look at him before I turn back to Sussman.

“I won't, Tony. I've promised it to Steve. But I can make sure that he's never going to use a finger ever again.” 

I look at Sussman and he's whimpering slightly now. Yes, he is scared and he deserves to be scared. 

“Bucky,” Tony says again but I move my hand over Sussman's spine. 

“You know, _Landon_ , in all my time as Hydra's assassin, they wiped my memories after each and every mission. But they always fed me with useful information when I was in cryo. I know how to maim you so that you will survive,” I say. 

“Bucky, come on. We lock him up forever and...” Tony tries again but I whirl around.

“No!” I snarl. “I've promised Steve not to kill him. I never said that I wouldn't hurt him. He deserves it,” I say, turn, and with one swift motion I grab his neck and break his spine without killing him, just the way Hydra had taught me. Sussman screams and I rise. 

“Fuck,” Tony huffs. I walk over to him, take the cuffs I have in my pocket and put them around my own wrists. 

“Now you can arrest me and bring me to SHIELD.”

***

Tony's plane is the most luxurious plane I've ever flown with. In the back it has a cabin with a bed and I don't want to think about why he has it there but I have a good idea. That's where Bruce and Natasha had brought Clint to. I'm in the front, together with Steve, Thor and Tony.

When I entered the plane together with Tony, Steve had looked at me, his brows furrowed and I saw that he stared at the handcuffs. But when Tony asked Steve and Thor to help him with Sussman he understood. 

Sussman is in the cabin with us. Natasha had said there's no chance that he will fly in the same room with Clint and so the man lies on a stretcher, sedated, because he screamed like a banshee the whole time, right behind the door to the cockpit. Bruce gave him the shot and now he's quiet.

Steve can't stop glaring at me whenever his glance touches Sussman and even Tony is unusual quiet.

“He deserves it,” I huff when he throws another glare in my direction. “He hurt Clint and he nearly made me kill you.” 

“You could've hurt him but to completely paralyze him was overkill, Bucky,” he says and I see him struggle to not pinch the bridge of his nose again. He'd done it quite a few times since the plane took off. 

“This bastard will never touch anyone ever again. All he can do now is sit in a wheelchair and crap in his diapers,” I spit. Tony coughs because of my outburst. But just when I open my mouth I see the door to the cabin open and Natasha appear. She walks over to the fridge, opens it and takes a bottle of water out of it. All of the others look at her and I want to know about Clint's condition as well. 

“Well?” Tony is the one who finally asks when she doesn't say a word. Natasha presses her lips together and seems to deliberate if she should tell us but when we hear a pained groan out of the backroom she sighs. 

“Sussman got him hooked on heroin and apparently it's time for his next fix. He's on withdrawal and with all his other injuries... he's in pain and there's nothing Bruce can do right now,” she says and then her eyes meet mine and I can see the anger in them. Yes, it's my fault. Not only got Clint held in a small cage, got tortured and... and ra... raped, no this monster had given him drugs to bend him to his will, to make him pliable because when the withdrawal became too bad he would beg for his next fix. And that... to break his spine was too merciful in hindsight. 

“Shit,” Tony curses and Steve mutters something under his breath. Thor furrows his brows, he doesn't know what heroin is. 

“Did he...” I start but when Natasha glares at me again I close my mouth. But she knows what I've wanted to ask.

“Yes, he asked for you,” she snarls and I avert my eyes for a second. She huffs frustrated. “I've told him what you've done.” I look up but I don't dare to ask. In the end I don't need to. “He wants to see you.” 

“What?” Steve, Tony and Thor ask in unison and I open and close my mouth a few times. 

“Not now, though. He's in a bad condition and Bruce agrees with me. You can see him when he feels better.” She folds her arms over her chest, the bottle with water still in her hand.

“Thanks,” I manage. 

“Don't thank me, Barnes. I've told him it's a really dumb idea. He still wants to talk to you,” she snarls and I look onto the ground. I know I don't deserve to ever talk to him. But maybe he gives me the chance to apologize, not that I expect him to forgive me. That moment I hear another pained moan from the room in the back and Bruce calls for Natasha and the water. She glares at me and turns but before she enters she turns back for a second.

“Barnes,” she says and when I look up she nods with her chin to Sussman. “Good job with that bastard. He deserves it. But if you fuck this up with Clint, I swear to god that I will kill you myself.”

***

When they brought me back to the tower – Sussman is in SHIELD custody now – Kate was there and she yelled at me for a full hour. She called me names for kicking Lucky and she slapped me for handing Clint over to Sussman and then she cursed me with the most creative phrases I've ever heard for not telling her, for letting her believe that Clint was on a mission.

Steve and Coulson were there and they both looked awkwardly everywhere but not at us. 

“You can be thankful that Clint is still alive. Otherwise I would've strangled you with your own intestine. And if you ever touch Lucky again, I swear...” 

“I think he's got it, Kate,” I hear Natasha's voice and Kate stabs me violently in the chest with her finger one last time. 

“How's Clint?” She asks and Natasha sighs. 

“He's in a great deal of pain and Bruce says he can't give him something because of the addiction. He needs to go through the withdrawal first,” she explains and both women glare in my direction.

“Can you please bring me to SHIELD now?” I ask Coulson and he finally nods. Together with Steve we walk to the elevator but when we pass Natasha I stop for a second. “Natasha...” I start and lick my lip. But I don't have to finish, she knows what I want.

“I let you know if something happens,” she says and I manage a small smile. 

“Tell him I'm sorry,” I say before I follow Coulson to the elevator. 

They don't have one of their usual black SUV's waiting outside when we leave the tower. It's a light blue mini van, a typical family car and I raise my brow but keep quiet. But I guess nowadays SHIELD has to lie low. An agent opens the door and I climb in. Steve and Coulson follow me and the agent climbs behind the wheel and merges into the traffic. 

He doesn't drive too long before the agent turns into a parking garage. I look at Steve but he keeps quiet and so I just wait till the man parks the car. We get out of the car and to an elevator but when the car arrives and we step in Coulson opens a panel in the wall, punches in a code and the car moves downwards. 

Quite a few agents stare incredulously at me when we walk through the hallways. I know, most of them expected to see me like this one day and now they can feel vindicated. Well, I can live with that. What I can't live with is the fact that it's my fault that Clint is in so much pain now and I can't help him. 

Coulson leads us to an interrogation room and I sit down and let him attach the cuffs to the table. If I wanted to I could break them easily with my mechanical arm. But I don't do it. Coulson sits down opposite of me and Steve leaves the room. I know that he's going to watch us through the two-way mirror.

“Mr. Barnes,” Coulson says and I know he's as formal as necessary for the cameras. “Let's talk about Landon Sussman.”

***

I lie on my bed and stare at the ceiling. It's boring in my cell but they won't let me out. They won't let anyone out. All of the prisoners here are always in their cells. The only human contact is the guard, delivering food and stuff. I stare at the ceiling and think about the last weeks.

Sussman is in jail, too. But not here, he's in an ordinary jail, well, as ordinary as it can be for someone who can't move a finger ever again. The doctor's checked him over but they said he's definitely paraplegic and the only part of his body he can move is his head. I'm still not sorry about that.

Steve visited me a few days ago. He visits me once a week since I'm here. He told me, that Clint is clean and as healthy as possible. All his injuries are healed and SHIELD sent him to therapy. He was reluctant at first, but in the end the whole team insisted and Natasha and Kate could convince him. He said he's getting better but he still needs time and I understand that. Steve told me, Clint still wants to talk to me but neither Natasha nor Kate let him come over here right now. 

Coulson was angry when I told him about Sussman and what I've done. It was him who sent me here. I don't even know where exactly I am, I only know that it's not one of SHIELD's usual jails. They are not safe anymore because of Hydra. But in the end, I don't care. As long as I'm as far away from Clint as possible. I can't risk to hurt him anymore. It's the best that could happen, he deserves better. He deserves someone, who doesn't betray him, someone who's good for him, who loves him like he deserves. 

And so I'm a little bit surprised when Coulson appears, unlocks my cell door and gestures for me to follow him. He doesn't cuff me and there are no other guards with him. I eye him but he doesn't say a word. He leads me into a room with a table, two chairs, a two-way mirror and a box on the table. He takes the box and gives it to me. 

“Your personal belongings,” he says and now I raise both brows. 

“What happens here?” I ask and Coulson sighs. 

“You are released, Mr. Barnes,” he tells me and his face is even more unreadable as I'm used to. 

“What? Why?” I blurt and Coulson sighs again.

“Agent Barton put himself out for you,” he says and I can only stare at him open mouthed, the box in my hand and unable to think. Why would Clint want me to get out of here?

“What?” I ask again and Coulson pinches the bridge of his nose and mutters something under his breath.

“He asked me to release you and... I don't know...” He looks over my shoulder to the mirror before his eyes find mine again. “Apparently I can't deny him when he was the victim of your actions.” 

I feel myself blush violently but then I look at the box. There are clothes in it and I know I wore my battle gear when Coulson brought me here. Who sent the clothes? Clint? Steve? Natasha? Or did Coulson bring them?

“No,” I say and want to give the box back but Coulson only looks at it, then at me and raises his one brow questioningly. “I stay. I don't deserve...” 

“Mr. Barnes, this is not your decision,” he says. 

“Why not? I deserve it. I hurt Clint in the worst way possible, I need to stay here. I'm a risk to others. I'm a risk to _him_.” 

Coulson turns his head to the mirror and I can see the comm-unit he wears. After a moment of silence he sighs and walks to the door. “Wait here,” he says and closes the door. Of course I will wait. Where should I go?

I place the box onto the table, pull out one of the chairs and sit down, look at the mirror and wonder who's behind it. Clint? Natasha? One of the team? 

Coulson comes back after a short amount of time and gestures for me to follow him again. I leave the box behind and obey. We walk down the corridor to another door and he unlocks it and lets me in. I can see one of the _visitor rooms_ for violent prisoners. The room is divided by solid bars. On my side is a chair bolted to the floor not far away from the bars so the prisoner can sit down to talk to whoever would come into the other half of the room. I prefer to stand. It doesn't take too long and the door opens and a man comes in. But then I need to sit because my knees turn to jelly. On the other side of the bars is Clint.

***

I sit on the chair, look through the bars at the man I betrayed so bad when he enters the other part of the visitor room. Clint seems nervous, he wears ragged jeans, green sneakers and a purple hoodie with the hood over his head.

“Hey, James,” he says and comes over to the other chair to sit down as well.

“Clint,” I breathe but then I open and close my mouth a few times without being able to say more.

He looks at me for a long moment before he wipes his nose with the back of his hand and I can see that he bit on his nails. His thumb is nearly down to the nail bed. It had to hurt.

“Phil said you don't want to leave,” he finally says when the silence became too awkward. 

“It's better when I stay here,” I say and look down onto the ground. “It's... safer.” I look up and swallow. “For you.” 

“I had time to think,” Clint says and tugs on the sleeves of his shirt, pulls them over his hands before he folds them over his chest. “After the...” he looks away for a second. “After detox.” He wipes his face before he looks at me, just a small glimpse. “You've told me Steve is like a brother to you, the closest you have to a family since you're back.” 

“Clint, I...” I say but he shakes his head and I shut up.

“I had a brother, well, maybe still have. I don't know. I don't care about him. But I do care about Natasha. She's family. Phil is family.” His eyes touch mine for a second. “I'd do the same for them.”

I open my mouth but he shakes his head again. And then he looks at me, holds my eyes with his. “Why didn't you tell me? You could've told me. We could've made a plan, one that wouldn't've left me helpless with this psychopath, James. Why didn't you talk to me?” I hear the pain in his voice and I know that I owe him an answer. 

“I'm sorry, Clint,” I say. I take a deep breath before I continue. “It was the first time I had to make a difficult decision on my own after... after Steve brought me back.” 

“You could've talked to me. I would've helped you. Steve is my friend, too. Do you really think I wouldn't've helped you?” Clint says quietly and moves his hand up to nibble at one of his fingernails.

“Don't do that, you hurt yourself,” I want to reach through the bars and take his hand away from his teeth but he's too far away and I have no right to touch him ever again. 

“Like you care,” he spits but he sticks both his hands under his armpits and glares at me.

“Of course I care,” I murmur and he snorts and looks away. I try to change that topic, it upsets him too much. 

“I had to make a decision about Steve's life, Clint,” I say and before he can say a word I continue. “I've thought I can save you, too.” I know it's a lame explanation but at least he looks at me again.

“You've left me completely helpless with... with _him_. You didn't even take into consideration to not drug me and tie me up, to give me a chance to defend myself, to fight. You...” he stops and swallows. “You put that collar on me.” 

I feel the nausea rise once again. I know this was my worst mistake.

“See, that's why it's better for me to stay here. In here I can't harm anyone.” I rise and start to pace.

“Stop, Bucky,” he says and I stop immediately. Still that name. Why does it bother me so much when he calls me Bucky? Others do and it's okay. Clint rises as well and comes as close to the bars as possible but not as close that I could touch him. “Like I've said, I would've done the same if it were Nat or Phil or...” he closes his mouth but the way he looks at me tells me that he wanted to say 'or you'. “You didn't think it through, though.” 

“Clint, I...” I start but he stops me with a glare. 

“Let me finish, Bucky,” he says and once again the nickname really hurts. After all, I know what it means to him. “I don't want you in here.” He sighs and wipes his face. “I mean, I'm not sure if I can deal with you out there but I definitely don't want you in here. Not for something I would've done as well. I'm not sure if I can...” he stops and pinches the bridge of his nose. 

“I can stay away from you and the team,” I mumble and he looks at me for a long moment and nods. 

“Yeah,” he says and nods again. “So, I'll tell Phil.” He points at the door but I'm pretty sure, Coulson already knows. He scrutinizes me before he finally turns around. When he has his hand on the knob he looks over his shoulder. “Uhm... and thanks for... you know... finding me and... seeing to it that _he_ can't hurt anyone ever again.”

***

Agent Coulson, sorry, Director Coulson now, drives me himself. I wear the clothes in the box, a jeans, a black t-shirt and blue chucks, and have a bag with my stuff in my hand. But when I recognize the building we stop in front of, my brows hit my hairline and I look over at Coulson. He still has his unreadable expression on his face and the shades he wears aren't helpful at all. The building is Clint's building, the one he had taken away from the Russian mob, the one where he used to live, where Kate lives.

“Coulson?” I ask and he turns to me. 

“Agent Barton moved into Avengers' Tower together with the team,” he says as if that was explanation enough. And it was. Coulson leads me up to the second floor, to an apartment – not Clint's – and unlocks the door before he gives me the keys. The room is empty when we enter, safe for one piece of furniture. A couch. Clint's couch. The one he had had in his apartment. The one we often sat on and watched shitty TV shows with Clint leaning against my shoulder and my arm around his waist. I swallow and when Coulson shows me the other rooms I discover another piece of furniture. His bed is in the bedroom. 

“If you need something, Kate Bishop lives in Agent Barton's apartment now, she knows the area and...” 

“... can keep an eye on me?” I interrupt him and he raises one brow but he doesn't deny it. 

“Captain Rogers said, he will come over and accompany you to a furniture store.” I sit down at the couch and feel bad immediately. The apartment is empty safe for the couch and the bed but I don't really feel like furniture shopping. I want to crawl in a tiny space and hide from the world. I don't want to be here, I don't deserve it. 

“What about...” I start and Coulson nods.

“The rent is covered. The landlord is a generous man, you know,” he says and a small smile appears on his face. Apparently he thinks his joke is funny. I don't know him well enough, not as well as Clint knows him. 

“No, that wasn't...” I stop midsentence and sigh. “What do I do now? The Avengers don't want me around and... I need to do something, right?” 

“SHIELD works on taking out Hydra. You know them, we could need your help, if you are interested.” Coulson suggest and I look up to him. Again that small smile. Did Clint ask him to ask me? Did he want me away, chasing Hydra? Of course he wants me away. He moved into the tower for all that he never wanted to live there. He had said he loved his apartment and now he gave it to Kate and moved into the tower. 

“It wasn't Clint's idea, if that's what's bothering you,” Coulson says and I frown. He can't read my mind, can he? No, he's just human. Right? 

“It was actually Captain Rogers' idea. He said, you would need something to do, something to keep you busy.” Coulson comes over and sits on the other end of the couch, his hands on his knees and still that annoying bland smile on his face. “You both need distance, Mr. Barnes.” He turns and looks at me. “I know Clint for a very long time, Mr. Barnes. I recruited him.” 

I know the story. Clint had told me that he had worked as mercenary and hitman after getting away from Sussman and that Coulson had chased him, that he had shot his leg to stop him and gave him the choice to join SHIELD or go to jail. He was nineteen when he became an agent of SHIELD. “I know that,” I say and Coulson nods again. 

“He doesn't hate you. We've talked plenty of times over the last few weeks. I really think you both need the distance, to sort things out,” he rises and walks to the door. “Give him time, he really likes you – yes, even after everything you did – but he needs time. And in the meantime you can help us take out Hydra. The pay is bad and the job is dangerous,” he smiles and I can't hold back a snort.

“Yeah, but at least you won't put me in a freezer afterwards, right?” I say and his smile broadens. 

“No, you get a rent-free apartment and nice neighbors.” 

“Okay,” I finally nod and he goes to the door and leaves me alone in may nearly empty apartment. Maybe he's right. Distance and time, if that's what he needs, then he gets it. And I can do something useful in the meantime.

***

I'm tired when I come home. _Home_ , I think and snort inwardly. It's still a mostly empty apartment. Most of the time I'm on missions sometimes with Steve but nearly always with Sam. He's a nice guy and since he got over the fact that I was (sometimes still be) the Winter Soldier he thawed and we became some sort of friends. Not like me and Steve or... no, I don't want to think about him right now. I'm tired and I want to go to bed, to sleep.

I just drag my feet up the stairs and stifle a yawn when I hear another person coming down. Probably one of the other residents. They all had to use the stairs, the elevator broke every other day and whatever Clint had tried, no one managed to fix it, not even Tony (and _that_ had really bugged the genius). I move to one side and want to let the other person pass, when they suddenly stop. I look up to see why they don't move and see Clint looking at me.

“Hey,” he says. He licks his lips, is nervous. The last time he saw me we were separated by metal bars. I haven't seen him for two months and he looks better than the last time. Healthier. 

“Hey, Clint,” I say, smile and try to look as unthreatening as possible. “How...” I start, interrupt myself but then I think it's too strange and so I finish my sentence. “How are you?” 

He looks at me for a very long moment and it seems as if he considers an answer but then he just shrugs. 

“I've heard from your encounter with the Serpent Society,” I say. He looks away but just for a second.

“Yeah, it was...” he stops and runs his hands through his hair. “Steve got hurt, he's still in medical,” he tells me. I know that, Hill had told us during our debriefing. “They were well prepared this time.” 

“They made their homework,” I say and he nods. 

“So... uhm,” he scratches the back of his head. “How was your mission?” 

“We found another one of von Strucker's labs and shut it down. Guess he's really pissed by now. It was the third this months,” I say and I can't hold back a smile. “Sam had joked that we have our quota and should fly to Hawaii and drink cocktails.” I won't tell him about the four young mutants we found, locked in small cells and experimented on. They are in medical, too, now. 

“Yeah, so... you and Sam... you're a good team, I've heard,” he says and I nod.

“He's a good soldier and with his wings a deathly threat to our enemies.” 

“Steve said that. He was sorry that he couldn't come with you,” Clint leans against the banister and folds his arms in front of his chest. He looks at me with a strange expression on his face. 

“How are you, Bu... James?” He finally asks. I nod slowly.

“Okay. To take out those Hydra bases helps.” 

“That's good,” he says and I sigh. 

“Are you okay? I mean...” I start but he looks away again. 

“It's... it's getting better, Dr. Markham says,” he licks his lips and unfolds his arms. 

“What do you think?” I can't stop asking now, I need to know that he's okay. Or at least that he's on the road to recovery.

“I don't know. It's... I can't sleep most nights, still have nightmares,” he admits and I know that he only tells me because he knows that I know that he had them long before. 

“I'm so sorry, Clint,” I whisper and he nods. But when I want to say more I hear more steps and another person comes around the corner and onto the stairs. 

“Barnes,” Kate says and looks at me with a cold glare that could rival Natasha's. She still hasn't forgiven me my betrayal. And I can understand her. 

“I... we have to go,” Clint says and points downstairs and I nod. 

“Yeah. It was nice to meet you,” I say and he scrutinizes me with his intense eyes and then he smiles, just a tiny smile.

“Yeah,” he says and when Kate glares at him he clears his throat. “See you, James.” 

“I'm looking forward to it,” I whisper when the two Hawkeyes are out of earshot. And with another sigh I climb up the stairs to go in my mostly empty apartment and my (Clint's) bed. I'm still tired.

***

It doesn't take so long till I see Clint again. Only a week later, I lie on _my_ couch in only my sweatpants – I have a week off, Sam is at his sister's wedding – and read a book when someone knocks at the door. I rise, fold the page corner and close the book but I still have it in my hand when I open the door. I don't have much visitors, mostly Steve or Sam, sometimes Bruce and so I stare with some surprise at Clint, standing in front of my door. He shuffles his feet and blushes as soon as the door is open.

“Hey... uhm...” he starts and I step aside, open the door and gesture with my hand for him to come in. He looks over his shoulder, hunches them but he comes in. He looks around curious and raises one brow when he sees my Spartan furnishing. There's only the couch, a table, two chairs and a TV in my living room. And a huge Benjamin's fig, a present from Sam who said it's too bleak in here without a plant. 

“Want some coffee?” I ask and I know that's somewhat foul play. He can't resist coffee, he's way too addicted to this stuff. Hell, he sometimes doesn't even bother to use a mug, he drinks it straight from the pot. And, as expected, he nods. With a smile I walk over to the kitchen and I hear him follow. I don't have much more furniture in there, only two chairs in front of the breakfast bar and he sits on one of them while I walk over to the coffee maker, take my only two mugs out of my cupboard and place them into the machine – a house warming present from Steve – and press the button. 

“How are you?” I finally ask and turn around, lean myself against the counter and watch him. He's still pale, has rings under his eyes and seems a little fidgety but I'm sure that's because I'm so close to him. 

“Okay, I think,” he mumbles and thankfully takes the mug I hand him. He waits till I took a sip before he drinks as well. He looks so tired, so small, so vulnerable and all I want right now is to take him in my arms, to hold him. But I lost the right to touch him the day I made the decision to give him to Sussman. 

“So, why are you here?” I need to know if this was a courtesy visit or if there was a reason.

“Oh... yes. Uhm... Simone called me, her drain is blocked again and I want to replace the piping but I can't get open the fitting and... I thought you could maybe lend me a hand,” he says and then he blushes when I look at my artificial arm. “That... that wasn't... I mean... I didn't...” he stammers. But I raise my hand, my flesh and blood hand, and stop him. 

“It's okay,” I say and turn to put my mug into the sink. When I turn back he shoves his empty mug in my direction and I put it away as well. “Let me get a shirt.” 

“Oh... okay. Sure.” 

“Why don't you call a plumber?” I ask when I walk to the bedroom and I hear him mumble something unintelligible into his non existing beard, the only word I understand is 'myself'. 

“Hey, no problem. I'll help you,” I say and he blushes again, just slightly, when I put the shirt on. I don't bother with shoes, I always walk around barefoot when I'm at home and so I just smile, rise my brow and gesture to the door with my head. “You ready?” I ask and he smiles.

“Let's help out the damsel in distress,” he chuckles and follows me out into the corridor. And I can't help myself, I can't hold back the grin that appears on my face. This tiny bantering almost felt like before. And I have to admit, it feels really good.

***

“You look tired,” I say when I see Steve standing in front of my door. He pinches the bridge of his nose, nods but when I step aside he enters and flops down on my couch. Yes, I call it my couch in the meantime. “What happened?” I ask and he leans his head against the backrest while I'm on my way to the kitchen to get him some coffee.

“Clint,” he says and I stop dead in my tracks and turn violently.

“What happened?” I ask again and Steve looks up.

“You remember the last mission, where he got shot?” He asks and I nod. Yes, Sam had told me some asshole shot Clint's leg. But he also had said, that it wasn't serious, he just needs some time off and a few painkillers. “The pain meds the doc gave him...” he stops and licks his lips. “He relapsed. The emergency doc didn't take into consideration that Clint mustn't get those meds.” 

“Fuck! How... how's he doing?” 

“He's in rehab again,” Steve sighs and rises. He places both his hands on my shoulder, turns me around and shoves me into the kitchen. When I try to complain he points at one of the chairs in front of the breakfast bar and walks around and to the coffee maker. “But you know him, he won't stay in medical and that's why Tony decided we detox him at home and that's...” 

“Oh god,” I whisper before I place my forehead onto the bar and fold my hands over my head. “What have I done,” I murmur, quiet enough, but Steve, with his enhanced hearing, understood. 

“It wasn't your fault,” he says but I can hear the implied 'this time'. “It's just... we take turns looking after him and... it's strenuous. You know him, he always manages to escape medical. He escaped twice yesterday. Luckily JARVIS locked the doors and he couldn't leave.” 

“Shit.” I mutter. “Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit.” I take a deep breath. “Is there something I can do?” I want to know but Steve shakes his head. 

“No. Tony locked him in the Hulk room. It's nearly inescapable and Natasha is with him now,” Steve says and hands me a mug with coffee. When I take a sip I see Steve leaning against the counter, a mug in his hands as well. He scrutinizes me for a long moment before he sighs again and reaches into the pocket of his jeans. He pulls out a thumb drive, places it onto the breakfast bar and shoves it over to me. 

“What's that?” I ask and Steve takes a mouthful of coffee before he answers. 

“Tony found it on Sussman's laptop. Clint knows about it and he said it's okay, when you see it. I'm still not sure but...” I'm pretty sure he was outvoted. And apparently he also got the short straw to bring it to me. “Promise me that you won't do something dumb, okay?” 

“Yeah, yeah,” I mumble and stare at the thumb drive.

“Buck, I mean it. Don't do something dumb!” I look up and I know he's serious. Whatever is on the drive has to be bad. “You've had your revenge, Sussman is a... a cripple, okay?” I can see him cringe inwardly using a word like _cripple_. 

“Okay, I promise,” I finally say and Steve watches me for another long moment before he nods. I leave the drive on the breakfast bar till Steve leaves, about an hour later but when he's gone I boot the laptop Stark had given me months ago, plug in the thumb drive and open the only file on it. About ten minutes later I kneel on my bathroom floor, my arms around the bowl and puke.

***

“I want to see him!” I'm in Stark Towers, no, Avenger's Tower now, elevator, my arms folded in front of my chest and glare at Natasha. And she glares at me as violently as I do. Steve is behind her and looks from one of us to the other and back.

“No way,” Natasha snarls and I tap with one finger on my arm impatiently. 

“That's not acceptable. I want to see him,” I repeat and Natasha shakes her head again. 

“No. Chance. Barnes.” She spits. 

“It wasn't my fault that he relapsed,” I say and I know this was below the belt because Natasha makes a step in my direction but Steve grabs one of her arms and somehow Thor appears out of nowhere and has her other arm. 

“What is the problem here?” The Asgardian asks and watches me carefully, as if I would snap any second. 

“I want to see Clint,” I say and Natasha shakes her head once again.

“No way, Barnes. Not after all you did to him,” she snarls and tries to free her arms. 

“I have thought Clint had asked for him? You did not tell him?” Thor furrows his brows and looks at Natasha now.

“What?” Steve asks in unison with me. 

“Are you crazy? He gave him to Sussman! I won't let him to Clint, no way!” Natasha hisses at Thor now. 

“It's not your decision, Tasha,” I say and the glance she throws in my direction is murderous. 

“Don't call me Tasha! Clint doesn't know what's good for him at the moment, not in his vulnerable state and you, Barnes, aren't good for him.” 

“Ask him,” I demand now. Steve and Thor share a glance and Steve finally nods.

“Maybe Clint should decide himself,” he says. 

“He's not in the best condition to make his own decisions!” She snarls and I raise both my brows.

“Did you listen to yourself sometimes?” I spit and she wants to yell at me but now Thor interrupts us.

“You can not ignore Clint's decisions, Natasha. It is the same this man, Sussman, had done,” Thor says and now Natasha stares at him, open mouthed and completely shocked. 

“What?” she breathes now. 

“You are making Clint's decisions. Is this not the same this man had done? Well, apart from hurting Clint. But I think if he wants to see him, he should see him. Bruce and his other doctors have also said it would be okay and maybe even helpful for his healing.” 

“But...” Natasha starts again but then another voice, a quiet voice, interrupts all of us.

“It's okay, Nat. I can handle it. I really want to see him,” Clint says. We all look in his direction. He looks pale and tired, wears sweatpants and a hoodie with the hood over his head. Bruce is behind him, his arms folded over his chest, ready to throw all of us out of the room the moment we'd upset Clint. 

“Clint...” she starts again. But he shakes his head and stops her.

“Bruce will stay. But I need to talk to him. And the shrink you forced me to see agrees with me.” 

I look at Natasha now and she struggles for a moment to free her arms, still angry at all of us. 

“If you hurt him, Barnes...” she says and pokes her index finger violently in my chest before she leaves the hallway. 

“You coming?” Clint asks, nods at Bruce and walks away. I want to follow him but Thor stops me, a hand on my chest and he leans in very close.

“I may agree that it is helpful when he talks to you, but Natasha is right. When you hurt him again there is no place on this or any other world where you can hide our wrath.” 

“I understand, Thor,” I say but then I follow Clint and Bruce to the small living room at the other end of the communal floor.

***

Bruce sits down on one of the beanbag chairs in the corner with the bookshelves. He has one of the books in his hands and pretends to read when I follow Clint to the couches on the other side. He takes an armchair – pointedly – and I take the love seat opposite of him.

He's quiet for a few moments but then he wipes his face and leans both his arms onto his knees.

“I guess you've seen the videos and the pictures, right?” he asks quietly and I nod. I try not to think of them, they were horrible and I know it's my fault that it could happen. I know it.

“I wanted you to know, not to punish you, if that's your train of thought. I wanted you to understand why...” 

“Why it was easier to take the drugs and forget what happened,” I finish his sentence and after another long moment he nods. 

“Yeah,” he whispers and right now I only want to get up and take him in my arms, to comfort him. But I also know, if I would touch him, Bruce – or to be more precisely: the other guy – would rip me to shreds. The whole team became really protective over Clint since... well... since _that day_. “Sleeping is... difficult,” he admits. 

“You need time,” I say and he nods. Only once.

“But that's not it. I...” he looks away and bites his lips and this time Bruce peeped over the edge of his book, watched us attentive. “I...” he swallows, “I miss you.” It was barely audible.

I stare at him as if he'd grown a second head. I need to rewind what he had said in my mind and try to process it. 

“I know it's fucked up,” he says and that hurts more than I ever thought it would be possible. “But this,” he gestures with his finger between the two of us, “I miss this.” 

“Clint, I...” I stop myself from rising when Bruce puts his book down and glares at me. “I don't know what to say,” I admit and he looks at his fingers. 

“I can understand if you don't want me anymore, after... you know. But...”

“No!” I blurt and Bruce clears his throat. I sit back and put my hand over my mouth. “No, Clint. I... never thought that you... that you would want...” I look at him and when he glances up, confused, I add, “that you probably could forgive me.” I say quietly.

“I've talked to Doc Robbins a few times about it,” he tells me and looks out of the window for a second before he continues. “She says that it will take time to forgive, time to rebuild trust.” He wipes his face. “But... I need you, James. I need you to be here,” he whispers. “I've tried to stay away from you, but...” he looks at his fingers and fumbles with his nails. “I can't. Doc Robbins says...” he stops again and I rise and walk over to him. Bruce looks up once more, but he doesn't interfere, he just looks squarely in my eyes for a second to make it quite clear that he was still watching me.

Clint moves back in his chair but he doesn't flinch even if I'm pretty sure that he needs lots of self-control to not to. I kneel down on one of my knees in front of his armchair and when he licks his lips I look at his hand and he nods. Carefully I take it into my flesh and blood hand and now I'm nervous. “Clint, I know, I've never told you...” I look at the floor in front of me for a second. “... but I love you.” I hear him breath in sharply. “I'm really, really sorry for what I've done and I will do whatever it takes to earn your forgiving, Clint.” He strokes my hand with his thumb and I feel something warm starting to bloom in my chest. 

“Can you promise me one thing?” He asks carefully and this time it's him who reaches for my hand, my metal hand. 

“Anything,” I say and I mean it. I really want him back and I meant it, when I said I would do anything he wants. 

“Can you promise me that you never hurt me like this again?” He whispers and I have to swallow. “If... if there is...” he stops and I stroke his hands now. “Talk to me, okay? Don't make a decision like this alone again.” I can't answer, I just nod before I press my forehead against his knees.

“I promise, Clint.” 

“Just... let us take this slow, okay?” He asks and I nod again.

“As much time as you need, Clint,” I say and he smiles, just a tiny smile.

“Thank you,” he leans his forehead against mine and cups my cheek. “So, do you maybe want to go for a coffee one day?” he asks and smiles and I chuckle slightly, tears in my eyes. And Bruce, over there in his beanbag chair, smiles as well, pleased as it seems.

“Yes, I'd like that.” I say. I know we both need time, time to heal, time to rebuild trust, time to be an item again. But I think we're headed in the right direction now. I really think we have a chance. And I'll do everything imaginable to regain his trust, his love, to help him. I'll do everything imaginable to make him as happy as in any way possible. Because I love him and nothing else matters.

-End-


	5. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, couldn't get it out of my head... ;)

**Six months later**

 

It was a weekend in December, when it happened. Clint was over at my apartment, he helped me with the Christmas decoration. I still don't have much more pieces of furniture in my apartment - I don't need much – and Clint said, that's perfect for a huge tree and we went to buy one. There was a dealer, six blocks away and Clint said, he had always bought his trees there. It was nice when we walked through the rows of trees and he reached for my hand. He didn't look at me, he just held my hand and stroked it every now and then with his thumb. The last months we went for dates and stuff but it was more like friends. I won't complain. I take what he's willing to give me. 

We found the perfect tree, bought it and carried it home. Yes, we carried it the whole way and it was the first time I was really thankful for my artificial arm because that fucking thing was heavy as fuck. When we finally arrived at the building and opened the door we got greeted by an almost hysterical Simone.

“Thank god, Clint!” she exclaimed and ran over to us. “The boys... they are... the futzing elevator!” 

“Slowly, Simone,” Clint said and put the tree down. “Tell me what happened.” He grabbed her hands and held them and Simone calmed down a bit.

“The boys, Clint. They ran around in the corridor. I was just baking cookies and I didn't realize that they went out.” 

“Okay,” Clint nodded. “And they are in the elevator now?” 

“Yes. The futzing thing broke between the second and the third floor and now they can't get out,” she almost cried. 

“It's okay, Simone,” Clint put his arm around her shoulders and held her for a second. “James and me take a look, okay?” 

“I've thought Mr. Stark fixed it?” she said and I couldn't hold back the snort. No one was able to fix this elevator. It was as if it was jinxed. Every other day it broke down. That's why I always take the stairs, like most of the residents. But I can understand that it was tempting for the two boys.

“I guess I need to completely shut it down,” Clint smiled ruefully and followed Simone up the stairs to the second floor and then to the elevator. He knocked at the door.

“Hey, boys,” he called. “You okay in there?” 

“Yes,” we heard a tiny voice. 

“We try to open the door now. Can you step back a bit?” Clint said and then he looked at me. I fumbled my metal fingers in the small slit and then Clint grabbed the other part of the door and together we pulled.

“Come on, Jamie, we almost have them,” he groaned when the door started to open. I nearly let the door slip. He had called me Jamie. I held the door but I couldn't stop looking at him. He had called me Jamie, and my heart made a somersault in my chest. 

When the gap was broad enough Simone carefully stepped in between us and lifted her two boys out of the cabin. They both cried, they were scared and didn't leave her side anymore. 

“Thanks,” she whispered and I can see in Clint's face that he blamed himself for the incident. After all, it was still his building. 

“I'll call Tony, he will shut the elevator down for good,” he murmured and Simone smiled and took her two boys to her apartment. 

And we, Clint and me, went back to the tree and carried him into my apartment. And that's where we are right now. We sit on the couch, look at the decorated tree – he had brought the decorations from his former apartment – and drink cinnamon flavored cappuccino. He sits very close beside me, close enough to smell his shampoo and shower gel. And I can't get the broad smile off of my face. 

“What?” he asks and turns his head, the small crease between his eyes appears. 

“You called me Jamie,” I say and now he blinks a few times before he shrugs.

“Yes, I know,” he says and starts to smile. And then he puts his mug onto the table, grabs mine and puts it beside his before he turns completely to me. When I look at him, his smile broadens and he leans over to me and carefully places his lips on mine. I close my eyes and melt into the small, chaste kiss, enjoy it and slowly rise my flesh and blood hand to caress his cheek and he deepens the kiss. It is as if time stopped, as if all the ups and downs we had the last months, the fights, the dates, the nightmares, the long discussions, the panic attacks, the almost relapse, haven't happened and everything was like before. Before the dire day where I made _that_ decision.

When I feel his tongue touching my lips, I open my mouth and invite him in, let him explore and touch and lick and suck and only touch his tongue with mine. I have no idea how much time has passed when we finally part but the way he looks at me, the small smile on his lips gives me so much hope. 

“God, I've missed this,” he whispers and cups my cheek with his hand before he leans his forehead against mine. 

“Yeah, me too,” I admit and he chuckles slightly. He leans his head against my shoulder and snuggles close to me. “You have no idea how much I love you,” I whisper, barely audible.

“Love you, too,” he says as quiet as me. Apparently he had heard it and I wrap my arm around his shoulders. “Merry Christmas, Jamie,” he murmurs. 

“Merry Christmas, my love.”

**Author's Note:**

> [asamandra on tumblr](http://asamandra.tumblr.com/)


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